As I walked to the door, keys in hand, it was opened and my mouth fell. Shelley was standing there, stark naked!“Hi, Bob,” she said. “Glad you...��re home. Jean said it was you.”I was dumbfounded. She was totally at ease and her pert little tits stod proud with hard nipples jutting out and I had a raging hard on.“Er, Shelley,” I said. “What are you doing?”She closed the door behind me and put her arm around my waist.“Jean has been telling us about your fantasy so we decided to help out.”“What. Apparently it was morning and she hadn’t put on her makeup yet. I could see a faint tracery of lines around her eyes, silent witness to the fact that she was not quite as young as I originally thought, but not more than thirty even so. I could see how, in the future, they would deepen, and that the result would still be beautiful, but perhaps more dignified. In age she would be like Ingrid Bergman. It occurred to me to ask if she was Swedish.But concern and worry tinged the beauty. Perhaps. More

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