She had on just a pair of bib overalls when I parked the truck at the top of her driveway … snug, the legs cut off short.   Ample tits spilled out past the edges of the bibs. I snapped the first picture before I even killed the engine… a close-up, just the top of her chest and her face, a Jamaican straw hat. 

She sat on a captain’s chair barstool, one foot propped on the top of the deck rail; the other leg dangling. She traced a glass of something cool along her inner thigh, all the way up to the spot where the cut-off denim stopped at the very top of her legs. The second picture was a really tight close-up: just her long slim fingers wrapped around the sweat-beaded glass, the smooth golden skin of her leg, a thin thread of denim … and the flat, soft flesh at the top of her legs, on either side of her pussy, a hint of blond pubic hair.

I had gotten the phone call on the way to work. “You got your camera?” she asked, didn’t even bother to tell me who she was.

“ … I sent that son-of-a-bitch’ packin’ … should have done it years ago,” she told me. Then: “Take the morning off … I wantta play,” her words came out of my phone.

We had known each other for a decade. We had flirted outrageously: she had stood really close to me in crowded bars, rubbed her nipples against my arm; I had sometimes squeezed her ass going into a dark theater … Her husband and whichever girl I was dating at the time right there …

I could never get her to go any farther … get her to fuck me… and now, this morning, “I wantta play …” I didn’t have to be asked twice; to hell with work!

She met me on the top step, kissed me on the mouth … pushed the ice cube from her mouth into mind; the ice cube was followed by her tongue. I was hard already; grabbed her ass, pulled her in tight against me.

Which temptation was greater? Hold and squeeze her ass … run my fingers under the scant fabric at the bottom of her overalls, find the crack of her neither cheeks … suck on her tongue in my mouth … feel the grind of her mound against my engorged cock … or … separate myself from her enough to take off her clothes. She resolved the dilemma: she backed away enough to begin fumbling with my belt, the top button and zipper. She kept her mouth on mine, biting my upper lip. 

I thumbed the catch on one overall strap, caught her tit when it came tumbling out, rolled the nipple between my thumb and forefinger. She bit harder, screamed, almost drew blood. I broke away from her mouth, filled my own with as much of her tit flesh as possible … sucked hard. She wrapped one leg around me, pulled her already hot crotch