She worked her fingers back and forth, her eyes closed, moaning softly as she self-pleasured herself. Maria stiffened up and bit down on her lower lip as a massive orgasm ricocheted through her teenage body. The bathroom door opened and Maria sauntered into the bathroom, clad only in her pink undies. She grabbed a towel and headed out of the bathroom just as quickly as she had come in. I toweled off without closing the door and then quickly slipped into some gym shorts. Maria stuck her head into the alcove of the bedroom.“I think,” she said, “You’re supposed to work out and then shower.”I laughed.“I did,” I said, “But I forgot the treadmill.
Her eyes fluttered open and I quickly withdrew from my vantage point. I stepped into the master bedroom and a few seconds later, the guest bedroom door closed. I can always shower again.”Maria stepped into the bedroom.
I often told others that Marsha same passion she brought to the bedroom was the same passion she brought to arguments.
Over a period of time, and on successive visits, Maria seemed to gravitate closer and closer to me.
The top portion lay on the cement next to where Maria lay stretched out on a chase lounge, chit-chatting with two very young studs who seemed more like vultures than the cool college-aged guys they probably were pretending to be like. When I met Marsha, my wife, Maria was a scraggly, pimple-faced teenage girl.
I cleared my throat to get Maria’s attention and told he she needed to come up to the apartment.“Whatsup? Marsha and Maria’s parents, my in-laws, while great people, were clueless when it came to raising two daughters.
Maria reached behind herself and playfully, teasingly, grabbed her own ass and jiggled it.“It’s my J-Lo imitation” Maria declared.
“I’m still working on my twerk.”I laughed.“Behave,” I jokingly scolded.
Maria said she had experienced a fall out with Wilma, our obtrusively impatient and intrusive mother.
Overnight, or so it seemed, she had filled out and become a very sexy young lady.
She wore very provocative clothes, which didn't’t sit well with me, but then Marsha reminded me it was her own provocativeness that had hooked me. I didn't pay a heck of a lot of attention to Maria whenever she would visit on the weekends with her mom and dad.
“I’m married.”“I know you are,” Maria replied, adding teasingly-like, “too bad”.
I didn't’t think much else about her tease and decided to chalk it up to her youthful spirit.