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The boy carrying out her groceries looked to be a year or so older than her own son Kevin, and this caused Mrs. Faye Pusey’s cheeks to flush at the lewd thoughts flitting unbidden through her mind. Decency demanded that she divert her hazel eyes from the lad’s plump buttocks as she hurried along behind him across the shopping center’s lighted parking lot. But the way his youthful butt rolled beneath his form-fitting jeans excited her more than usual on this spring-like February evening.
A petite widow of thirty-three, with a boarding house to run and two children to support, Faye was generally a very proper and serious young woman. A damned pretty one, too, what with her lustrous brunette hair cut in the soft, curly shag currently in vogue, providing a rather sexy frame for the delicate features of her fine-boned face.
Faye’s seriousness was very much with her on this particular evening. However, she didn’t feel at all proper. Her nervous condition was getting worse, and Faye was afraid she knew why. Sex seemed to be all she could think about lately.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.