When Mrs. Pierce had first turned around on the lounge, the little skirt had ridden up her legs but her thighs were too close together for the pale bl...e panties to show. As I worked her lower legs I tried to push them apart, and succeeded, but Mrs. Pierce's knees stayed together, thwarting my plan. Slowly, I kneaded her legs less strenuously, allowing my fingers to stroke more than massage, similar to the way she had scratched her leg herself. My eyes and mind kept wandering under Mrs. Pierce's. Hildy’s mother answered. She was wearing an apron and an expression that was neither happy nor sad. ‘Come in,’ she said as she opened the door. ‘Good evening, Mrs. Wertz,’ Jim said as he stepped through the door, ‘I hope you had a Merry Christmas.’ He was in their kitchen. Hildy’s father was at the table, reading the newspaper and had a fresh cup of coffee steaming in front of him. Mrs. Wertz shuffled to the sink where she was washing dishes. ‘Come in, come in,’ her father said without looking. More

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