Mrs. Cook kneeled as she unbuttoned his shirt. Her waist was slim and her ass was very round. Her lacy black panties were so thin that the peeping girls could see the deep crack of her ass through them. Betty had yearned for panties like those for a very long time. With panties like those, plus her fast-growing tits, she could have had any boy within miles of the family farm. Hut at least she had this scene to look at now, and she secretl scratched at her hot, tingling cunt while the show before her continued on its thrilling way.

"Just as I thought. You don't have a hair on your chest yet," said Mrs. Cook, smoothing her palms over Russ' warm flesh while he shivered and squirmed on her couch. "But then, neither do I," she said, as she cupped and lifted her big, bra-covered tits in her hands before reaching back toward Russ.

Russ was twitching and squirming as she played with his nipples.

"That… tickles. Hey, I better go, Mrs. Cook."

Very calmly, Mrs. Cook straddled Russ' lap, holding him firmly on her couch, while she went on playing with his nipples.

"I need you here more than your other customers do," she told him. "You'll be much better off with me than sniffing after those stupid virgins on the block. And why don't you call me Olive instead of Mrs. Cook?"

"Olive, I… better get going."

"I wish you'd change your mind," she said, reaching behind her back to deftly undo the snaps of her thin, black bra.

"Ooo!" she said, reaching inside the loosened cups and squeezing her lovely, big tits. "So nice."

She let the cups of her lacy brassiere hang loosely over her big tits as she slid her hands dow around her slim waist. She held him by his shoulders and made her tits swing and sway in his face. Each twist and turn of her torso edged her bra straps farther off her shoulders.

Russ' staring eyes widened. His fingers, were digging into the couch cushions at his sides, as she said, "Take it off for me, honey. Take off my bra and have a look at a real set of tits, if you dare."