Then I let it slip from my mouth and said I had to finish the milking. Becky groaned but moved back out of the way, so I could finish.As I was putting...things away I heard “There is nothing dripping out of me”. Becky was leaning back against the same bench as last year, her halter top untied, her mini skirt hiked up over her waist, no panties, and her legs slightly spread exposing her cute little pussy. I walked up close to her and dropped my jeans (I was going commando).Her eyes got huge; I no. But I visited the house across the street often, the house with the wall in front where I had sat that rainy Saturday night waiting for the children to go to bed. Each time I would always check for a sign that she was home, a casual wave, a gesture, a nod, any sign that she acknowledged my presence, my existence. There was none. I had an excuse to be there. Tad had bought the house before his marriage to Marcie and I was to expected to look in from time to time when they were out of town. We. More

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