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My arms and legs weighed a hundred pounds, minimum. Never mind about my back and shoulders. I tried to get up out of bed, but the world decided to go into a spin instead. So, I just lay there and enjoyed the ride, so to speak.I thought about Hannah and where this path would take us. She was a mystery to me. Some of Allison’s texts said that demons are renowned for cruelty and general feelings of not giving a shit about anyone but themselves, but my mistress had shown me kindness and had cared for me during the last however many days it had been. I was puzzled, to say the least.I felt a bit cold, so I grabbed for my woobie and covered up with it. As I felt it warm up, I remembered daddy getting ready for another deployment and hearing him ask mom if his woobie was clean. I must have been five or six at the time and asked him what a woobie was. He picked me up, saying, “A woobie is actually a camouflage blanket that I use in the Army to keep warm. If you ask any soldier who their best. Everyone loved her.I adored her. As the summer went on, I grew to absolutely love her.Jean took a liking to me, too. I was 18, tall and lean with messy brown hair. She would joke to girls who I may have been talking to that "he's all mine, you can't have him!" Everyone on the store staff found it adorable."She's old enough to be your grandmother!" one girl said. "It's so cute."Secretly, there was nothing cute about it. Jean may have been in her 50s, but there was something about her body that caught my eye from the very beginning. She was just built the right way, if you ask me: shapely with wonderful skin. She had light blonde/gray hair that fell around her face and shoulders with bangs over her perpetually happy eyes.She was always well dressed; conservatively but still a hint of suggestion. Button-up blouses with halters underneath. Flowing skirts. Her nails were always done. Her makeup always right.Oh and those tits. Big, round momma tits. They weren't obvious, but they were.
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You haven’t really experience the nude beach until you’ve walked up the shore ogling all the naked people (and being ogled in return). We walked, and talked, and said “Hi” to total strangers, and I hardly noticed when her hand crept into mine. I only realized sometime later that she was holding my hand, and I never knew when it happened. We came back to our towels. Laughing, she gripped my hand tightly, and ran toward the surf. I allowed myself to be pulled along and we laughed and splashed and (dare I say it?) cavorted in the waves. I caught her up in my arms, and gazed into her… sunglasses. Her expression was impossible to read. I suppose mine was the same. She giggled, splashed me, and somehow teleported back out of my arms. I followed her back up onto the sand, marveling at the way her butt moved when she walked. “Stop!” she commanded. “Don’t come onto the towel yet! You’ll get sand all on it.” The air was cool as it blew across my skin, drying me off. She reached into my bag and.

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