‘You wait until I get it to the table child. You ain’t a hungry barbarian girl.’ she chastised, wagging her finger at me gently. I pouted softly... earning a chuckle from this grandmotherly figure. She was an older woman who had inherited the cooking duties of this household from her mother and grandmother and so on. She was born into this form of slavery and even though I hated it, I was glad she was around. Miss Lindy always knew how to make a horrible day seem good through her wisdom and her. And to top it all of her breasts were just as beautiful as ever. I am not an expert, but 36D sounds about right, if not bigger.We could not stop talking about the good and bad times, our experiences, dreams and everything in general. From time to time I would touch her delicate hand. She felt so soft and warm. Four hours and two bottles of wine later it was time to say good bye.We met again Friday night. This time her cleavage was much more adventurous and I had to try really hard not to stare. More

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