Her stocky legs parted further as I approached, and she laid back to make her big tits ride her chest like two basketballs. “Because I like you, you’re not drunk, and you’re not an asshole.”
“Well, thanks, I guess.” I tried hard not to stare at her breasts, or at the large, dark brown aureoles that capped the end of each one like lily pads. She shoved her wet panties down her creamy white legs and hung them on a nearby branch to dry. My whole body numbed at the prospect. Basically just hang loose. I invited her to stay if she wanted, expecting her to say no, and was surprised when she accepted. “I missed you.”
“Really?”
In the cool of our air-conditioned bedroom, we renewed our relationship in the routine way that had developed between us. “I see someone survived last night,” I said.
