Mommy’s Gentlest Touch
I make my way exhaustedly into the house. It’s been a long day at college classes and things aren’t getting much better for me. I stumble into the living room, dropping my bag as I do, and kicking my shoes off. That’s when I see a woman waiting on the couch with her legs crossed staring directly at me.
She’s Columbian, average height, not skinny but in decent shape with black hair running down her neck and behind her back with slight waves. Her green eyes glisten and her face beams with a smile. While attractive, she’s aged some at almost 40. She wears a black, modest dress that flaunts a massive E cup cleavage.
“Well, you know the drill.” She says in her deep accent. “Dress code.”
Immediately, I do as I am told. I begin stripping the clothes off my lean, caucasian body. I throw my shirt over my blonde hair. I unbuckle my jeans and pull them down. I take my clothes and set them to the side. I then pull my socks off as well. I stand barefoot and almost nude on the other side of the couch in front of her.