This put my suspicious and cynical side right up on edge and I decided to do a little snooping around the house. I didn’t discover much, but I did notice that Wanda was now hand-washing her underwear in the bathroom sink and not putting them in with the rest of the laundry as she had used to do. That bumped my ‘affair’ suspicion gland up another full notch or two. I tried to hold a serious talk with her Sunday morning but she was not at all in the mood to hear anything I had to say. I did get in a loud, unsubtle hint that I thought she was spending way too much time away from home and she needed to decide ‘where she lived and whom she lived with’. I didn’t quite get in the last word (I never did), but I could tell I had hit upon a sore point when she suddenly began to look rather guilty. This wasn’t quite a debate win for me, but I chalked this fight up as a tie. Almost a first for me! This meager discussion didn’t help to sort out any sort of resolution to our mess though. My next. As she enveloped me in a warm hug and drew my head againsther glorious bosom, I once again got lost in her warmth. She opened thepassenger door and I climbed into the car in almost a trance. Shereached over to buckle my seatbelt and pressed herself against me in theprocess. This gave me another whiff of her heavenly perfume and Idelighted in it again. Mrs. Alexander went around the car and climbed inbeside me and we drove off.The car Mrs. Alexander drove was a pink Cadillac convertible. I askedabout the car and Mrs. Alexander told it was a 1959 model that used tobelong to her mother. She had her arm around my shoulder and pulled meto her so that my head rested on her breast as we sat on the bench seat.I just took it all it, her lovely full breasts and her aroma. Thisweekend was going to be special. Mrs. Alexander said that the next daywe were going to a restaurant for Thanksgiving dinner.As we pulled in the circular drive to Mrs. Alexander's house, I lookedout in awe. Obviously Mrs..
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