The sight of her pretty little blonde face had brought back all his recently created wounds and he had found himself staring at the picture, staring at the neatly pressed uniform she was wearing and recalling just what her little thirteen-year-old body looked like under it!

"Com'ere honey…" he called to Rosalie, reaching out for her. He pulled her down on top of him as he rolled over onto his back, feeling the soft cushiony shapes of her breasts squeeze against his chest, and then her flat belly pressing against his own pot as he hugged her to him. His thick cock, in a semi-erect state all this time, leapt to full hardness, grazing the open slit of her vagina, as it reared upward through her soft curling pubic hair. She lay flat upon him, unmoving for a second and then she began to slowly undulate on top of him.

"Mmmmmmmmmmm… you smell good… baby… real good!" he murmured into her neck. Her dark curls were falling into his face and he sniffed appreciatively of her flowery perfume. He began a little short bucking movement upward against her, savoring the womanly feel of her, enjoying the goods he had bought for himself, as he so often put it to the cronies at the club. Yes, he thought, rubbing his fingers up against her moving breasts… for what Rosalie lacked in brains, she made up in other ways. That was the only kind of woman for him from now on, he thought. They were all good for but one thing, anyway. No use getting them too smart like that ex-wife of his. Dorothy was a real looker, alright, but he should have known better than to marry an ex-school teacher… or to marry anybody for that matter!

Rosalie's brown tipped nipples rolled neatly between the thumb and forefinger of each of his hands and he could hear her sighing above him.