She had nothing to be ashamed of. She knew it. And she knew that she could easily pass for a college girl, though the idea of doing so had never entered her mind. At thirty-one she was still firm and slender, weighing the same 110 pounds she'd weighed as a college senior and soon-to-be-bride. And she was nicely dressed today, in that yellow springtime dress Tom had liked so much when she'd bought it last year. Smooth yellow, almost as smooth as satin, cut deep in front between the firm round mounds of her tits, and trimmed rather closely on the sides, too, the top secured with a tie around her neck. The dress was long, as was fashionable today, but slashed up the sides to allow revealing glimpses of long-thighed legs. Well! she thought. I put this dress on, expecting to take it off in a motel room while my husband drooled from the bed. I don't think my plans worked out. But I'm still going to take my dress off, and I certainly expect to see some drool forming on that lovely boy's lips. She reached up, brushing her hair out of the way, and she undid the bow behind her neck. The top of her dress fell down, baring her smooth, hard-nippled tits. Ronnie coughed and she was pretty sure she saw froth at his mouth.

Joanne held the fallen dress in place, and she breathed, and her nipples were poked out in stiff brown erections. She raised her hand, stroked her fingers across each nipple in turn, and she murmured softly between puckered lips. Ronnie made a sound, too, light and airy, and he was standing by the bed clenching and unclenching his fists. The look his face bore was remarkable – as if, she thought, he hadn't believed it was going to happen, until now. Joanne looked up, ran her tongue across her lips, and pointed at him with her free hand. "Your turn to take something off," she suggested kittenishly. "Why not your pants, love? They look as if they're about to split, you know?"