1. Mrs. Freeman sluts around...


    Date: 6/15/2016, Categories: Mature, Taboo, Author: Tralababalan, Rating: 100, Source: xHamster

    Never Gets Old.' I'm sensing a theme here." Below a lightly plucked and knowingly arched eyebrow, her gleaming eyes locked on Matt's before she dropped the shirt unceremoniously to the table, turned on her heel and wandered off. Matt stared after her as she did, his cock stirring at the site of her sweet little bottom encased in camel hair pants. Shaking the image from his mind, he returned to his duties, re-folding the tee shirts that Olivia had held up for inspection. "Jesus, Matt," came an exasperated whine. "What are you doing? You're just screwing around." He turned to see Marni approaching. "Come on, Matt," she pleaded. "You only have forty-five minutes before you have to clock out." She had had enough. "Just go work the cash register for the rest of your shift." Fifteen minutes later, Matt was behind the counter straightening the supplies and waiting for the next customer when Olivia approached. She dropped two pairs of pants and one of the College Tee-Shirts on the counter and leaned against it on her elbows, her breasts pushing together and swelling beneath her turtleneck. A flirtatious smile formed across her shiny lips as Matt rung up the first pair of pants. "You know you have two different size pants, ma'am?" he inquired when ringing the second pair. Olivia sighed, her breath rustling her glimmering blond locks. "First of all, I'm not a 'ma'am.' Try 'miss,' young man. You'll find it works much better with women who haven't hit menopause yet." "Sorry," he ...
    mumbled, reaching for the tee shirt. "And second, yes, I know I'm buying pants of different sizes. That's because I'm buying one pair for my oldest son," she intoned, holding up one pair, "and another for my other son," she finished, holding up the other. "Of course . . . miss. I'm sorry." Matt rang the tee shirt as Olivia rummaged through the Chanel flap bag looking for her credit card. The bag's strap d****d across her torso, running between her breasts, emphasizing what needn't be emphasized. When she found her card, she handed it to Matt, dragging her cherry red nails across the innocent flesh of his palm as she withdrew her hand. With a shiver, Matt read the name on the card before sliding it through the machine. He began folding the tee shirt. His composure somewhat regained, he shook his head when he read the message emblazoned across the front of it: 'I Mow Your Mom's Lawn.' "What?" Olivia asked. "I told you," he began in light tone, "your son's gonna to hate this thing. No self-respecting k** would wear it." "Really?" she said, confident that the young man was wrong. Matt nodded his head. "Well, let me tell you, then. It's not for one of my sons." He merely rolled his eyes as he slipped the pants into an A&F bag. "Right. Who's it for, then? Your daughter?" he scoffed. Olivia leaned closer to the young man, her long blond locks sweeping across the counter. Silently, she mouthed, "It's for you." Matt furrowed his brow, not reading her glossy lips much less understanding the ...
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