Nobody

Another Glass of Wine

"I certainly hope not, Mister English," She told me, smiling at me. She leaned forward to flick her cigarette and stayed leaned forward, looking back at me and smiling. "Lord knows you seem a man capable of self-control and discretion."

Taking the time to rub across her shoulders with one hand, I took a drag off my cigarette, watching as she gave a slight shiver. I reached up to her collar and slid the zipper down, opening the back of her dress all the way to the top of her white granny-panties. I slid two fingers under the hooks of her bra, pressed my thumb firmly, and made a snapping motion.

Her bra opened and the ends slid under the dress.

"Did you do that one-handed?" She asked me, sitting up.

I gave her a smile, reaching out to run the back of my knuckles down the side of her jaw. "Me, Miss Mary-Beth? I'd never do such a thing to an obviously upstanding member of the community."

Miss Mary-Beth smiled at me. "I'm glad we understand one another, Mister English, the good Lord knows there is room for misunderstanding."

I nodded, smiling, reaching out and opening the front of her dress, sliding my fingertips under her bra and sliding the dress front and bra under her breasts. She glanced down at the fact that her breasts were free and outside her dress, then gave me a smile.

"It would be a shame if we were to misunderstand one another, Mister English," she said, looking up at me. She gasped as I cupped her breasts, lifting them slightly and rubbing my thumbs over her hard nipples. "Jesus knows that we seem to understand one another, wouldn't you say?" He hand went behind my neck to draw my head down.

When I reached under her to slide the dish-towel beneath her bottom she frowned. "What's that for?" she asked, lifting up slightly to let me slide it under her plentiful fat ass.

"We don't want to get anything on your dress," I smiled.

She shivered in anticipation. "You make such wicked promises, Mister English."

When I moved to her breasts I was silent while she rubbed the back of my head, gasping and whispering to Jesus again. At one point she put out her cigarette and held my head with both hands as I went back to work on her breasts. After a bit I drew back, smiling at her.

"Never had that happen just from that kind of ministration," she said, breathing heavy with her face flushed. "Jesus and the heavenly Father must have blessed you with experience and talent."

"And attention to detail," I smiled.

She laid back on the couch, her breathing steadying as she smiled at me, her eyes sparkling in the dimness.

"Can we talk for a bit, Mister English?" She asked. She pointed at the cigarettes.

"Of course, Miss Mary-Beth," I said, picking up my cigarettes and lighting two. I handed her one and smiled as she adjusted on the couch until her back was in the corner, one arm across the back the other across the arm.

"My husband, understand, has not been an attentive man in a long time, Lord knows, Mister English," she started.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Miss Mary-Beth," I told her.

She held up her hand, reaching out and touching my lips to quiet me. When I kissed her fingers and smiled she looked surprised, then made a pleased noise in her throat before moving her fingers away.

"I would like to explain myself, Mister English," she told me. "Having a man listen to me outside of the Our Father's church or the bank is rare for me and I would like to take advantage of it."