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He laughed hard. By now she knew very well that not only he could, but anyone nearby. As they got to the door, they saw a teenage boy looking at Ida’s nipples with his eyes big as saucers. “Be proud, Ida” Art whispered, and unbelievably, she was. As Art came out of the men’s room he saw Ida, back in her sundress, her hair wet from rinsing out his come. She was talking to the truckers. As he walked up, they thanked him for sharing his lovely wife’s body with them. “Hell, thank her” he said. “We already have” they both said. “We’ll remember this the rest of our lives” Jake said. Ida thought to herself “They aren’t the only ones.” She also had a stray thought about the word “re-member” and smiled to herself at her little pun. “Should we send you the photos?” said Jake. Ida panicked. She hadn’t seen them taking any. “Oh no!, You took pictures? Couldn’t you just destroy them? she asked meekly.“Oh, don’t worry.” said Jake, “we’d never put them on the web, they’re just for our viewing. My hands trembled as I opened the test message."Your only chance to make this right. Dress sexy professional and bring your camera. 6 sharp."I stared at the small screen. I wanted to communicate back, but didn't want to take the chance of angering her. I look at my watch. 4:00. I would have to hustle. I quickly take my clothes off and turn on the shower. Just as I grabbed my towel my phone buzzed again. I snatched it up, my heart sinking in fear."DO NOT MASTERBATE IN THE SHOWER!"She knew me so well. I set the phone down and walk into my shower. I let the hot water cascade down my 6' frame. I grabbed the soap and quickly lather up my body. My mind racing a million miles an hour as to what her plans might be. My 8" cock rising with anticipation. I grabbed my razor and quickly shaved my balls, knowing how much she liked that. Making sure the "manscaping" is perfect. I wash my hair that is 6" longer since the last time I had seen her. I step out of the shower and dry off. My cock pulsing.
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’ ‘That would be nice,’ she said. ‘I’ll go and change. Call for me in about fifteen minutes.’ I changed into street clothes, and fifteen minutes later I knocked on the door of Ingrid’s dressing room. She opened the door and smiled at me. Even in casual clothes she looked stunning. ‘Wow!’ I said. ‘You look great.’ ‘Thank you,’ she said, taking my hand. Over coffee we talked, telling each of our life’s stories. Ingrid was 25, I discovered, just three years younger than me. She had been in a couple of stage shows, but this was her first major part. I really enjoyed her company. The cup of coffee turned into a second, and then a third. After the third cup arrived, I reached across the table and took her hand. She squeezed my hand in response, giving me another of her dazzling smiles. Suddenly I noticed the time on a wall clock. ‘Ingrid, we have to get back!’ I said. ‘The next show starts in 45 minutes!’ I paid the bill and we rushed back to the theatre. When we reached Ingrid’s dressing.

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