I noticed her immediately, walking up Market Street towards me. Dressed in a knee-length flowery cotton skirt and an off-the-shoulder peasant blouse, under which her obviously bra-less breasts swung freely, with shoulder-length fair hair, and carrying two bulky shopping bags.
'Those look heavy,' I said. 'Can I give you a hand?'
She smiled at me gratefully. 'Thanks -- that would be nice! It's too hot to hump things around!'
Our fingers touched as I took the bags from her -- as she leaned towards me slightly I got an even better look at her heavy breasts, and I felt my cock stir.
'You're right -- it is hot.' I nodded towards a pub on the corner: 'If you're not in a hurry, how about a drink to cool off?'
'Umm -- just what I need -- a nice cold lager!'
It was quite early, and the pub wasn't crowded. I bought the drinks while she found a small table in a corner. We dumped her bags and sat down. She smiled at me and toasted me over the rim of her glass, and then took a long swallow.
'Looks as though you've been busy shopping.'
She shrugged her bare shoulders. 'I wanted to get out of the house and -- take my mind off.'
She sighed. 'It's not always easy, re-marrying a much older man. He -- well, let's just say he can't always do his duty. It's getting worse lately -- I try hard, but it doesn't seem to do any good. Last night, I -- I wanted it desperately, but it was no use. I worked on him with my hands, my mouth, everything ... the only thing that gets him going is telling him about the men who've had me.'
She took another swallow of lager, and when she put her glass down our fingers touched again, but she didn't remove her hand.
'One benefit is that I -- get to do it with a lot of men, but not always when I need it, like last night.' She shuddered. 'I played with myself, but it's not the same ...'
I studied her body, especially her full breasts. I could see her nipples prodding against the thin cotton of her blouse, and again my cock stirred involuntarily. She must have seen me staring, and she eased the blouse down another couple of inches, baring more of her breasts and the deep valley between them.
I looked up, and our eyes met, and I let my fingers stroke hers lightly.
'I know what you mean about being frustrated. I've just broken up with my girlfriend.'
Her eyes widened in surprise. 'Why? What was wrong?'
I shrugged. 'Oh, I don't know. She was so -- immature, I suppose. Very giggly, self-conscious, almost prudish. I prefer older women, more experienced, who know what they're doing, and what they want.'
She swung her legs sideways from under the table, and crossed them. I glanced down, and dropped my hand to her thigh -- she stared at me for a moment, and tugged her skirt up several inches, so that my hand rested on her bare leg.
'And I prefer younger men -- who want to do things to me ...'
At that moment her phoned trilled, and she rummaged in her bag, giving me another view of her cleavage, and held the phone to her ear, staring into my eyes.
'Hello? Yes, dear. Yes ... I've finished shopping, but I don't know when I'll be home. Why? I'm with -- a man, that's why ... we just met in Market Street, and we're in that pub on the corner of Duke Street, the Rose and Crown ...'
Our eyes were still locked, and she ran the tip of her tongue over her lips.
She laughed. 'I don't know. I'll ask him!'
She held the phone aside. 'He wants to know if you're going to fuck me! Are you?'
