Recent Blogs: XXX PROPOSAL waited in her doorway, looking up from her paperwork over the tops of her reading glasses. Mrs. Hanson wore a cardigan sweater that barely contained her ample cleavage. The lacy edges of her black brassiere were visible, and hers was most certainly a well-filled bra.
As Mrs. Hanson absentmindedly nibbled the long strand of pearls that she always wore, Johnny licked his lips - his throat seemed to have suddenly gone dry. Mrs. Hanson always reminded him of a mature version of one of those buxom goddesses in the prints in his Art History textbook.
If a middle-aged woman with half-rimmed reading glasses, hair done up and held in place with a pencil could ever be described as a buxom goddess, that is. It must have been the pearls that did it. Mrs. Hanson always wore them wrapped about her throat three times like a kind of a choker, then the rest of the long strand lay nestled between her full mounds like a puddle of shiny white liquid.
Then Johnny glanced at the framed picture on Mrs. Hanson's desk; young, eighteen-year-old Susie Hanson in her Stuffville High cheerleader uniform, with her pony tails and bright sunny smile, and he blushed at what he'd been thinking. Whoa, dude, this is Susie's MOM you're thinking about here, he reminded himself.
