“John, I need your help.”
At first he didn’t hear her, he was too immersed in thought about the creaminess of her inner thighs to hear anything other than the beat of his own heart thumping in his chest. When she called out again he snapped out of his daze and went to see what was wrong. As he reached the open doorway he glanced inside and didn’t see her anywhere in the bedroom.
“I’m in here,” Helen called out.
Turning toward the sound of her voice he noticed the bathroom door was wide open and he could hear the shower going. Hesitantly he stepped over to it and peeked inside. Helen was holding the fogged glass door to the shower open just enough for her to stick her head out. He could make out her silhouette through the glass.
“What’s wrong Helen?” he asked, his voice breaking as she leaned her body up against the glass.
“I don’t have anything to scrub my back with. Would you be a dear and wash it for me?”
“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” he stammered, his cock growing in his pants.
“You don’t have to get in with me silly, I’ll leave the door cracked and you can reach around it and soap up my back,” she laughed.
“Uh…okay, I guess that would work,” he replied stepping up to the shower door and taking the soapy washcloth she was holding out.
Awkwardly he reached around the door and felt her back up into his hand. Slowly he began running the cloth over her back starting at her shoulders and working his way down. When he reached the small of her back he lost his grip on the slippery washcloth and dropped it on the shower floor. The palm of his hand slid over her soapy skin and his cock reacted positively to the feel of her slick flesh.
“Whoops, dropped something. I’ll get it,” she giggled and bent over to pick up the cloth.
When she bent over the movement caused John’s hand to slide lower. It traveled down across one cheek, the tips of his fingers gliding through the crack of her ass until they were nestled against her slit.
“Well hello sailor,” Helen chirped happily, pushing her cunt back against his fingertips.
“God Helen, I’m sorry,” he stammered, swiftly yanking his hand back.
“That’s okay sweetie,” she replied, standing and pushing the door all the way open.
His jaw dropped as she stood there totally naked in front of him, soapy water running down her body in tiny streams. He gazed in astonishment at the stiff pink nipples sitting on her overly firm breasts, and the spattering of freckles that adorned her chest. It was obvious she had implants, and equally obvious that whomever had done the work had done a very good job. As his eyes went lower he took in her flat smooth tummy before reaching her shaved mound. He could just make out her clit peeking out at the top of her slit.
Smiling Helen reached down and placed her wet hand over the bulge in his pants then said, “Oh my, did I cause this?”
“What the hell Helen…” he started just as the blaring of a horn came from the driveway out front.
Madison pulled into the driveway and laid on the horn. She’d be damned if she was going to lug everything into the house by herself. Hitting the automatic trunk release she climbed out of the car just in time to see her son coming out of the house. She noticed the strained look on his face, but what really caught her eye was the large wet spot at the crotch of his khaki trousers.