No response. I slapped her face lightly. “Amanda!”Nothing.My heart felt like it was beating out of my chest. I closed the curtains and pulled the ...uvet off her. I watched her face closely as I cupped a breast and squeezed. A snore escaped her. I unbuttoned her shirt, pulled it open and watched as her large breasts spread open. My God, were they beautiful. Her nipples were large and hard, her areolas the size of teacups. I lowered my head and softly touched my lips to the underside of her left. I remember with particular fondness her home grown apple pies with a pastry crust that was just perfect, served with hot custard and cream from the farm.I grew to love the cottage as she did and when she died in 1981 at the grand old age of eighty-three, whilst I was in my final year at university, she left me the cottage in her will along with a substantial legacy. Following a year at teacher training college, I was fortunate to be offered a teaching post in the English department at a new. More

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