Carlota pointed to a spot in front of the mansion steps where an older woman, with grey hair, hunched over a cane waited for them, surrounded by her staff of gardeners, maids, and their two drivers. “There’s mama” she said with a big warm smile on her face. “She’s still as beautiful as ever, even with the grey hair” “Now I know where you got your looks from” Conor agreed. Margaret Vasquez stood in the centre of a small welcoming crowd. She was shorter than most of the staff mainly due to her hunch back, from years of battling osteoporosis, but she was still beautiful with her long silky white hair, her thin lips and almost non-existent wrinkles ruining her face. Her bright hazel eyes glimmered and her complexion was fairer than the women who stood around her.Carlota opened the passenger door and stepped out, her long green dress billowed against the summer wind, the familiar rustling of the nearby trees brought memories to her. Warm, inviting memories, such as the day she met her. Our lips met in a passionate kiss… tongues entwining, licking, tasting… inhaling our scents (smell, the most deprived electronic sense)… lips moving on lips… bodies pressed tightly together. For two weeks we had carefully rehearsed our first lovemaking on chat and the phone–so tender and so romantic. Poof, the planning was for naught, urgency prevailed as our fingers nervously fumbled with buttons and fasteners, clothes peeling off to fall willy-nilly in a heap. Naked, we pause to stand and look at each other, silly grins on our faces, eyes approving what our minds have already accepted. Moving together, inhaling our scents, our skins touching for the first time, so electric… almost overwhelming emotions… mutual moans thru grinding lips… hardening nipples poking my chest… our growing heat pressing still closer. Holding the kiss, we kneel… then she lays back on the carpet, legs splayed, her fingers parting naked pussy lips… inviting. I accept, coming to her, rubbing my cock in her.
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