Hot Blog: WELIVETOGETHER WE LIVE TOGETHER sat down again, red with embarrassment, she said with a grin: "Don't you go starching those sheets tonight. I'm going to check in the morning". With a wink she went off to bed.
Sometimes she would wrestle with Dougie and me, which was a wonderful opportunity to "accidently" have a feel of those wonderful orbs. She would roll around and scream and hug us, her dress ending up around her waist, underwear in a tangle. It was great fun and she never got all tweezer-lipped if my hand strayed to those nylon panties and squeezed her bottom or if I stroked the soft flesh above the stocking top. As long as it was part of the game, it seemed I could cop all the feels I liked.
But that was it. Although it was fun, I wanted something more and I realised I wasn't going to get it from Marge. However, as I was to discover, someone other than her husband, old Bill, was.
Once a month, without fail, Dougie, siblings and mother and father, went off by train to Gwelo, the much bigger town down the line, to do the big shopping. It was more than shopping, it was sort of a ritual and they all looked forward to it. They shopped, had lunch, went to a real movie house, and returned to Hicksville on the late train.
So when I arrived at their house one morning during the school holidays to fetch the swimming costume I had left there, I knew nobody was home. I rummaged for the key on the window ledge and let myself in via the door directly to Dougie's room. I found what I was looking for and was about to leave when I heard strange noises. Surely not burglars in Que Que, that was unheard of!
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