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Each weekend one of them would spend the entire weekend at the other’s place, usually alternating between Jack’s apartment and Helen’s house. It wasn’t considered necessary to pack underwear.They usually went out to dinner one night and spent the other eating at home. Jack had packed a sport coat and a pair of slacks in his bag, and seeing Helen dressed in her ‘lounging gown’, since he had no other idea what to call it, he knew that tonight they’d be dining at home. He was correct; stepping into the kitchen he saw that a large crock pot was simmering something that smelled very tasty and a loaf of French bread on the counter.Jack set the bottles of wine on the counter and leaned down to kiss Helen full on the lips. She kissed him back equally hard, wrapping her arms around his neck and rubbing her body against his. His cock strained against the front of his trousers and pushed against her torso. Jack ran his fingers lightly down her back to her hips. She wasn’t wearing even a thong. For yet I could smell her fragrance, the bunch of mint she was carrying in her hand. Still I can sense its scent clearly after all these years, muddled with scent of ripe apples, we brought them with us back on our trip.I guess she was round 18 either; she was wearing a sleeveless dress, with rose colors. Fortune favored me, or perhaps she planed to sit beside me at the narrow back seat of the jeep, very close we were our arms were touching each other. I was feeling that delicious touch of her skin, the warmth of her body, the sweat of our skin at the contact site.Wonderful moments, not only for me, I guess she was enjoying them either as same as I was doing. She was exhausted; she leaned towered me to let her head be rested on my little shoulder, to drop-off in a restless sleep.I was exhausted either, I leaned my head to be rested on hers, not to drop-off in a sleep, but to feel the softness of her hair with my face, and to let my spirit soaring high in sky of a fancy world. I was.
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