"Would you like a Coke or something before you leave," she smiled, handing him the bills she'd counted.

"No thanks," he blurted out nervously. "I've gotta go."

"What's your big rush?" Linda asked.

"Nuthin'," Terry stammered. "But I'm awful late."

"Come on," she whispered, placing her hands on his shoulders. "It's lonesome all by myself. Please stay for a drink."

"I just can't, Mrs. Turner," the youth mumbled, turning toward the door.

"Terry," she giggled, "don't you like to look at my pussy?"

"It's not that." He blushed harder than ever. "I've just gotta go."

"Okay," she smiled. "But will you help me for a second before you leave?"

"I guess so," was his nervous reply. "What do you want me to do?"

"Will you please change a light bulb for me in the kitchen?"

"Sure," he muttered. "I guess so."

"I don't have a ladder," she smiled when they entered the kitchen area. "You'll have to stand on a chair, but I'll steady it for you."

While he was up on the chair changing the bulb, Linda gently placed her hands on his leg.

"Now don't slip and fall," she said, moving her hand slowly up the boy's inner thigh. "Ill hold you steady."

A wild flame shot through the woman's excited twat when her probing fingers touched his cock through the material of his tight jeans. As she'd hoped, the young boy's dick was as stiff as a board.

"Oh, Terry," she giggled, "you've got a hard-on."

"Please, Mrs. Turner," he said in a nervous voice, his body shaking like a leaf. "Please don't touch me there."

"Don't you like it?" she whispered.