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Her tight ass wriggled busily inside her shorts as she walked. Her breasts thrust forward under her yellow tank top, as though begging for attention.
But the petite redhead paid little heed to the postman as he nodded his head and smiled in her direction. She didn’t notice the milkman’s neck-craning peer from his truck as she walked by. The grocer actually walked out of his shop and stood on the sidewalk watching the provocative retreat of her ass. But, for all she saw, the woman could have been in her own world, peopled by no one but herself.
Her name was Joan Carruthers. She was a young housewife, newly arrived in the neighborhood. She had decided to take a walk to ease her mind, to digest the disturbing events that had made her and her husband part enemies that morning. A tear threatened to overflow her eyelid as she remembered her frustration, and her husband’s hardheartedness. Why can’t he understand me? She thought despairingly. He could at least try!
As she passed a two-storied home surrounded by a lush flower garden, a friendly German shepherd came out to greet her. Automatically, Joan reached down and stroked the big animal’s head. She had always liked animals, especially dogs. This one was a particularly large, handsome specimen. His wagging tail and eager dog grin made Joan smile. For a moment, her misery was forgotten.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.