Sylvia felt her cheeks flush. "I… I think you know that men usually have other reasons for staring at me, honey."

Tony didn't answer, but his expression told Sylvia that he knew what she meant. Sylvia had just turned thirty-seven, and she wondered if she would ever be old enough not to have problems because of the extreme voluptuousness of her body. She was delicately built, with the slender bone structure of a model or a dancer, but every inch of flesh on her seemed to have been sculptured to make her a sex object.

Her legs were well-toned and curvaceous, shapely at thigh and calf. Sylvia's buns were round and firm and plumply protuberant. She had lost count of the times she'd turned suddenly on the street to find some horny male with a bulging crotch staring transfixedly at her ass. Her waist was only twenty-two inches; she hadn't gained an ounce since her eighteenth birthday.

But the main problem with her body, of course, was the size of her tits. Sylvia sighed as she looked down at herself, still rubbing Tony's back, seeing how her huge, firm tits stretched the terry robe. Her tits would have been just the right size if she'd been a broad-shouldered, tall female basketball player. But they were obscenely oversized for her delicate bone structure, and her nipples were just as outrageous, wide and deep red, with big, protuberant tits. It was impossible to go outdoors without having countless men gawk at her enormous, round tits – and gawk was the word for what half of Tony's football team – had been doing when she'd picked him up that afternoon. More than once she'd caught even Tony and Craig ogling the incredible voluptuousness of her figure.

"Rub lower," Tony said. "Shit, it hurts." Sylvia slid farther down his waist, wishing that she'd worn panties, flushing as she felt her furry pussy pressing Tony's bare thigh as she straddled him. She rubbed his spine briskly, trying to remember the techniques she'd once learned as a nurse. Suddenly Tony moaned and clutched desperately at his upper leg.