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I left to use the restroom down the hall, and I was walking back to the living room, Ms. Jones cornered me, and something inside of me didn’t want to say no. Her lips were soft, her skin softer than mine, and breasts that looked like they never aged a day, probably because she hadn’t had strong, coarse hands trying to squeeze them off of her chest for ten years. We were violently interrupted when Vicki started calling for me in the living room, jokingly worried that I had fallen in. I never had another encounter with a girl again, instead I was faced with the strange interactions of college guys, intellectual and otherwise. Back to my problem, after a night of cheesy movies and a stack of homemade almond macaroons provided by Ms. Jones, Vicki and I fell asleep on the living room floor. I was shaken awake to find Ms. Jones standing over me, worried that the moans I make in my sleep were signs of pain. “I’m ok, Ms. Jones, I promise, it’s just an issue I’ve had for a few months, where’s. ‘Mmm. Lovely, I can’t wait to suck it.’ I slipped my cock out of the thong and stood close to one side of her, almost pressing the tip of my cock against her shoulder and began to piss down the dress; the pale material darkening as it became wet. I stopped and admired my handiwork, then moved towards her front. Aiming at her chest I began to piss more freely, the satin quickly becoming soaked and clinging to her curves. She raised her hands and began to massage her breasts through the wet satin as I peed over them. Then I shifted his point of aim and shot a jet straight at her cleavage. ‘Oooohhh, yes,’ she said ‘that feels lovely, I can feel it trickling down my belly.’ As my flow began to subside, she scooped up a handful and sipped at it. ‘Keep a little for me.’ I said. She cupped her hands in front of me and I peed the last drops into them, then knelt in front of her and slurped it out of her hands as I ran my hands over her wet body, massaging her.
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