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"Come on in, it's okay," she said, looking out at him. "I thought you said this is your private sanctuary," he said, "I don't want to intrude." She smiled appreciatively. "You're not intruding, trust me," she replied, "if you were, you wouldn't be here." He walked in gingerly, as if tip-toeing in would make it ok. She was standing in her closet, a large walk mature galleries in, and handed him a t-shirt. He held mature thumbnails it, her scent on it, fresh, female, beautiful. She pulled out a drawer. "Lingerie," she smiled, closing it quickly. "Uh, but," he pointed, "um, can you open that again?" She slid it out, smiling, and stood back, inviting. He stepped forward and touched the soft, satiny, silky, little things, all sorts of colors, all types of mature escorts frilly things. She cleared her throat. "Okay," she said, "you need to go to sleep." He withdrew, and mature thumbnails after grabbing a blanket, she led him back downstairs. He went to sleep, laying on his stomach, wanting to be with her upstairs, holding her, breathing her in, listening to her heartbeat. Her t-shirt lay in his protective, curled arms, and he fell asleep with her scent in his mature for sure tgp face. The next morning, he offered the shirt back, but she told him to wear it. It ended up on his bed, a reminder of mature thumbnails when he slept at home. He asked her for another t-shirt after a few days, and she obliged, trading. She smiled when she handed it over, watching him accept it, guarding it, protecting it. *** She came into his work one mature xxx day and pulled him aside. "I wanted to show you something!" she said. "Show me what?" he asked. "This!" she said, pulling her halter top open just a bit. "What do you think, you like the color? I just got it!" He stared, speechless, at her bra, some unusual beige color, lacy, frilly. "Um..." he flushed, "I like it." She didn't move, so he mature ladies in lingerie out caressed the bra, afraid to press down. He looked up at her. She flashed a smile and pulled her pants down just a bit over her hip. "Matching thong!" she whispered proudly. He ran his hand over her hip, following the edge of the thong. He pulled him towards her, pulling him into her, her breasts pressed against his chest, his hardness pressing against her. He put his face against her neck, breathing her in. She allowed this for just a bit, her arms wrapped around him, and after too brief an interval, she pulled away. "You know that man-barrier I have?" she asked, her eyes locked on his. "You're breaking them down." *** One morning, alone in the house (no daughter, now 5, to watch over them), he woke up early. He normally did, unable to sleep past 5:30 or so, excited to be in her house even after months of sleep-overs. He trotted into the kitchen, but she wasn't there. He looked up the stairs. He so desperately wanted to go up, but he was scared. What if she got mad and banished him? He'd never forgive himself. But recently, they'd been closer and closer. When alone in the house, she'd let him hold her close to him. She welcomed his hugs, and he'd put his hand on her thigh when she drove. Her visits to his work would consist of them walking into a private corner, her showing him her outfit underneath, and they'd hold each other, quiet, pressing, enjoying the closeness. He looked up again and made up his mind.

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