Using my binoculars, I peeked through the window and across the street at Mrs. Walson, my undecomposed friend's mom and one of, if not THE, hottest MILF on the cylinder block. She was cleaning house dressed in extremely heights cut cut-off dungaree, and a lumber jack shirt. Now when I say high cut, I am sure her pubic hair would give birth shown had she not regularly shaved that area, and while her shirt remained unbuttoned, showing ample cleavage, she had it pulled up and tied just below the 38C temptations bulging from her breast, in short, her common cleaning attire.

As she leaned forward sweeping or mopping the floor, I enjoyed a down blouse view of those gorgeous mound when she was facing my way, or, when she faced away, the bottomland quarter of her firm, full-of-the-moon ass cheeks being parted by the seam of her cut-offs, a voyeur dream total true.

‘ diddly-squat ’, I whispered when, just as Mrs. Walson was leaning forward to blame something up, Jason Smith, a Friend of mine who lived up the street, casually strolled by the Walson's house, obviously enjoying the scene I was being denied. By the time I again had a discharge view, she had already stood up and was returning a ‘ hi'wave in response to Jason's. This happened often, and not just with Jason, as well-nigh, if not all, of the boys, not having the vantage point I had, had no other choice but to walk by hoping for a peek. I suppose I couldn't blame them, it was a appearance any teenager could enjoy.

Watching Mrs. Walson gather together her cleaning provision, I knew the show was ending, but continued to watch as long as possible. I followed her across the living room until she disappeared from spate before I noticed, because of the wide of the mark angle perspective through the opera glasses, her bedroom curtains were not tightly drawn together. I adjusted the view of the binoculars bringing her sleeping accommodation window into snug sentiment and waited patiently.

As I waited, I felt my affectionateness beating in my breast, felt my manpower starting to shake, felt saliva gathering in my rima oris until I almost drooled, and then she entered.

As she entered, she was looking down, fiddling with the knot that had held her shirt closed. I watched as she finally managed to open the outer eyelet of the knot before raising her hands and, her fingertips sliding down her sternum, pushed open the remaining loop allowing the hem of the shirt to drop open.

I felt as if I had been transported to a phantasmagorical universe where everything happened in retard motion. Her custody continued down until they could deal the shirt by the parted hem, deplumate upward and back, allowing the shirt to fall back from her articulatio humeri and, as her titty came into panorama, I gasped. Despite their size of it and fullness, they did not drop or sag when freed, their asymmetrical ring of color enhancing the perfect tit, still hard from rubbing against the shirt, and were thrusting forward as her arms and head stretch back dropping her shirt away. As she finished stretching, she pulled her head and sleeve forward. She Look down and, I could narrate by the effort of her munition, began undoing her cut-offs.

The size and positioning of her window modified my view to only being able to see her body down to her belly. Knowing what she was doing, and hoping for a different view, I stood on my toes try to look over the windowsill in a downward direction with no luck, so I stood on my bed only to let the Saami lack of results. She leaned forward ( to get rid of the cut-offs from her ankles ? ) and I watched as her bout hung freely with the slightest of movement before she rose again and started walking away from my way, bringing more of her body into view. I jumped back to the level and raised the binoculars to my eyes just in fourth dimension to watch her ass cheeks sway with each footstep she took before she entered the sea captain bathroom and turned toward the sinkhole.

She reached for a facecloth and set forward slightly to wet it under the tap causing her ass to push back ( where imagined my grimace was waiting ) before wringing out the facecloth. She stood unsloped again and lean back her fountainhead and began to slowly wipe her neck opening with the facecloth as if it was lover caressing her with kiss. She leaned forward again to rewet and rinse the cloth and, as her ass jutted out, my tongue involuntarily started to evanesce my sassing. After the facecloth was wrung out, she held it her correctly hand and raises her left arm so she could wipe the swither I so wanted to lick from under her left tit. She placed the facecloth in her other hand and washed away the stew from under her correctly tit. She put the facecloth in the sinkhole before clasping her hands together. She stretched them upward as far as she could get hold of and leaned to the left hand, then to the right, obviously checking for any sag to her bust which, I could receive told her, there wasn't.

She reach down to wet and wring the facecloth again. She turned to face away from my direction, raising her left leg to perch it on the crapper across from the cesspool. She leaned forward slightly, almost daring me to run up behind her and accept the offered gift, and, using her right hand, began to wash between her legs. The cloth in her hand wiped along the back talk of her crease, back and forth it travelled as it slowly parted the backtalk and entered. The wiping apparent movement soon sped up and more of the cloth disappeared. Her physical structure bent forward, her left arm holding on to the incline of the tub for support. As she bent, her ass cheeks parted inviting my tongue to caress the puckered muscle, when suddenly, her head threw back, her knees pulled together and buckled slightly and the ‘ washing'of her privates returned to a slow, steady pace.

Her sexual climax seemed so intense I thought I could share it from where I was standing and I envied her husband's accession to these hoarded wealth, their fullness, their tactile property, their taste, and imagined that I shared that approach, and more. I saw myself nibbling her nipples and sucking on each, licking at their steadiness as they reached replete erecting, enjoying their sentiency between my lips. I felt the decoration my hands cupping the soundness of her knocker as my finger began to stroke and nip her nipples. finger my lips gently kissing their way down her belly and over, then under, her groin. I could sense my mouth parting slowly allowing my tongue to exit my mouth to search and savour her honey-sweet cavity. I imagined the sounds of her panting sigh of prevision as her hands would commit my head deeper into her as her juices washed over my Kuki. I felt sweating forming on my forehead as the phone of my own panting intimation quickening. I felt the pleasure climb in my groin as, without my knowledge, one of my hands had left its grasp of the binoculars, slid itself into my denim and began to expertly fuck off my genitalia to near orgasm only to be denied by my mother's vocalization coming from directly behind me asking,"Harriett, what are you doing ? ”