1. He Looked Familiar


    Date: 10/16/2015, Categories: Mature, Author: marlowe, Rating: 5, Source: LushStories

    “He Looked Familiar” (circa-1982) When Brenda Morton entered a room her tits came first and the rest followed. “Come inside,” she invited, her words breathed in a soft seductive whisper, her eyes taking a quick tour over the smart young man old enough to be her son. “I was expecting someone older,” she said. “Please take that age thing as a compliment,” she smiled, flashing dark brown eyes, her fingers playing with a waterfall of auburn hair, a swoop of waves falling over her shoulders in that 1940’s Lauren Bacall style. “Everyone looks so young these days,” she said, as she guided him into the living room, swaying her hips in a graceful walk, a waist squeezing belt showing shapely curves, black seamed stockings growing from black heels, her arse a little on the plump side, mountainous breasts and a dangerous cleavage spilling out of a white silk blouse. “My mother-in-law, Grace,” she offered, casually pointing a finger at the frail old woman sitting in a wheelchair in a spacious conservatory at the rear of the house, the back of her head just visible above the top of the chair. “She’s eighty-six next month,” she sighed, a hint of insincerity in her voice as she opened a door into the conservatory, her heels clicking on the ceramic floor tiles, fussing over her mother-in-law, adjusting her pillow, pulling a woollen blanket over her blue-veined hands and wiping traces of saliva from the corners of her mouth. No movement. No reaction. No signs that she even knew they ...
    were there. It was difficult to tell whether Grace was sleeping or if her life had already ended. “The dining-room will give us some privacy to discuss the building proposals,” she said, opening a door from the living-room, settling into comfortable chairs at a polished table, the bottle of wine and two glasses a little unexpected. “I want to give my mother-in-law the privacy and dignity she deserves,” she said, forcing a smile and pouring wine into two glasses, ignoring his protest for half a glass, brushing a tear from her eye and sweeping a whispery mass of hair from her face. “We require a ground-floor extension at the rear of the house with provision for a bedroom and an accessible bathroom for a wheelchair user,” she said, shifting her weight in the chair and pulling a piece of paper from a drawer. “This is what we would like,” she said, showing him a rough sketch of the proposed extension. “My husband thought it might help,” she smiled, lifting her glass to her mouth, her breasts rising and falling with each sip of wine, nodding her head and flashing her eyes as she listened to his briefing on the design and building proposals and the procedures with the local authority for obtaining Planning Permission and Building Approval. “It’s going to take me about an hour to survey the house,” he said, quickly refocusing his eyes when he realised he was talking to her tits, glancing at his watch and picking up his tape measure and file notes from the table. “If you have no ...
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