I should have known it was too good to be true. Mom and Dad said they would be out shopping all afternoon. But I figured I didn't have to worry about them. Without fail, no matter how long they said they would be gone, it was inevitable that it would be twice as long as they predicted before they got back. If they were just "running to the store for a few things" and said they would be back in fifteen minutes, it would be a minimum of thirty, if not forty five or even an hour. This time they said they would be gone "a couple of hours." Therefore I knew it would be many hours until they returned, probably not until well after dinner time.
"You sure you don't want to come along?" My mom had asked.
"No, I'm just gonna hang here, maybe watch a movie or something," I said.
"We'll be gone for a couple of hours," my dad added. Yeah, right.
"OK Guys. Take your time. I love you both."
"Call us, or text us if you need anything Samantha."
"I will, Mom."
"We love you too, Honey," My dad told me. "And remember to lock the door when we go, Sammie. You'll be here all alone."
"OK, Dad. Although, I am seventeen, in case you forgot. I have been home alone before. But of course, I'll throw the deadbolt as soon as you're gone."
My little brother Bobby had slept over at his friend Drew's house the night before. They had soccer practice, or little league, or bowling ... something like that ... that morning. Then he was spending the rest of the day with Drew's family, which he does all the time. I was sure that after whatever activity they had (soccer, kite flying, etc.), they would all go to get something to eat, or for ice cream, or to a movie or something like that. My mom said Bobby was staying at Drew's again that night, so I didn't think I had to worry about seeing him at all. Besides, he's loud as hell, so I felt certain that if he came home unexpectedly, I would hear him from the moment he entered the house.
Penny's cheerleader costume was attracting more attention than she anticipated. She wore the vest top without the requisite turtleneck sweater underneath, plus she left the top three buttons undone. Her D-cup breasts put a tremendous strain on the remaining two. The vest was spread so wide that her nipples were barely covered. Once when she was dancing a whole tit popped out. The skirt wasn't much better. Her husband, Rick had her shorten the pleated little number by five inches. Instead of being mid-thigh it just covered her pussy. He had wanted her to go to the party commando, but that's where she drew the line. In reality, the panties didn't make much difference. She wore the smallest white see-through thong that she owned. When she bent at the waist it was invisible. All you could see was her glorious ass.
The morning after she sold her graphics design business for a sum large enough that she could comfortably retire, Francesca Weaver looked at herself naked in the mirror and considered what she wanted to do with herself, and her life. She was forty-two, married but childless, and she and her husband Edward led mostly separate lives. Her looks were undiminished, and though she had never been conventionally beautiful, she knew she was sexually attractive, with high cheekbones and an aquiline, regal profile. In her stocking feet she stood nearly six feet, with long light-brown hair she usually pulled back into a patrician ponytail. Her 34C breasts and her ass might have sagged a little, but only a little, and her exercise regimen kept them in shape.
In her youth Francesca might have been considered a little on the scrawny side, but she was now merely slim. Oh, her youth, she thought. Her wild, lusty youth.
She raised her arms above her head lazily, and admired her smooth, sleek body. After years of shaving and waxing, she had indulged in laser treatments that gave her a form utterly free of body hair: not under her arms, nor on her legs, nor on or around her delectable pussy and ass.
She liked what she saw. And she was determined that many others would see it, and like it, and enjoy it also.