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She broke the kiss and staggered against me. I felt her breasts push up on my chest, and pulled her close into a hug. I pressed my crotch with its hard dick against her stomach just above her hips. I wanted her to feel how her body was affecting me. My body was responding to her in a way I had never known before with any woman.“Thank you for the rose. It’s lovely. Let’s sit down,” she said after a moment. “I just knew it was you, Anil. God, I love the fact you’re taller then me.” We sat next to each other in the booth. She kissed me again, and put her hand on my crotch massaging my dick through my pants. “Are you wearing boxers?” she asked. “I have to see it. I can’t wait to taste your dick.” She giggled a little embarrassed smile as she unzipped my fly.I kissed her in reply not trusting my lips to do anything else. One hand went to touch her face as the other cupped a heavy breast. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and I opened a few buttons and freed one breast from her blouse.She finally. She wasn't kidding about being hungry, and it alwaysmade me feel validated to see her react to my cooking that way. Sheworked very hard at her career to support us, and I tried to work justas hard at being a housewife to avoid feeling like a freeloader. Shealways told me not to worry about that, because my being a housewife washer idea; but I was raised to always meet my obligations and carry myown weight, even when married to a sugar-momma like my Margret.I served my hungry wife a couple of buttermilk waffles, with maplesyrup; scrambled eggs; juicy, thick cut bacon (not too crisp); fluffy,homemade biscuits, with homemade fig preserves; orange juice; sweetalmond milk; and of course, more coffee. I mostly had the same, except Ipreferred a mix of mango and pineapple juice to orange, and some dancongoolong tea instead of coffee."More juice and coffee?"Margret's mouth being full, she simply nodded. I got up, minced over tothe counter in an overtly flirty way, filled her glass and cup,.
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