Christmas 2002. Datchet; England.We had completed another bout of frantic shagging on the carpet and lay gasping; gulping air into our oxygen, but not...sex, starved lungs. Steph rolled off me — she always insisted on being on top."You know, Dewey, I'll be forty seven in May next year, and I'm shagging a boy of twenty two. I'm old enough to be his mother for God's sake."I raised myself on an elbow and gazed down at her lying alongside me. Her well-shaped and firm breasts rose and fell as she. You're standing in a long room filled with large panoramic windows overlooking a quiet, brightly lit up, street that's decorated in contemporary minimalist fashion you hear the faint clacking of heels striking the lacquered floors but you pay no mind and resume facing the calming streetscape. Suddenly you are pulled back and down upon a conveniently placed white over stuffed white leather sofa you're sitting there stunned and feeling out of sorts you look up taking me all in from my curly locks. More

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