Inside job.

A click in the lock signals that George is home. From the way the way you hear her feet bustle as she takes off her coat and hangs it up, she didn’t have the best day. She strides right into her bedroom and immediately starts to throw her clothes off.

George’s body is still amazing. Her breasts heave as she sighs with exhaustion, undoing her bra and letting it fall to the floor. The firmness despite their size was impressive years ago, and it’s even more impressive how pert and responsive they look today. Wriggling out of her pants, George also proves her ass is still a godsend, a round, heart-shaped bubble that you’ve always regretted not being able to put your hands on. The petite, feisty woman doesn’t stay nude for long, getting on a fresh pair of boyshorts and a loose-fitting t-shirt from a job you know isn’t the one she still has. It doesn’t take long from there for her to hit the bed, falling asleep to some very dramatic show it’s apparent she’s in the middle of binging.

Her snores are light, but present enough that you know you’re in the all-clear. Slowly, you twist open the door to her closet from the inside and emerge silently into her bedroom. The light of the TV dances unsteady blues across her sleeping form, black hair splayed in a halo around her head. She looks peaceful, but her exposed midriff and one of her shapely legs hanging over the side of her bed draw your eyes perpetually to her most provocative parts.

She mumbles to herself in whatever dream she’s having as you savor the moment before you strike. That second of quiet tension also lets you notice her underwear is already lightly stained at the front, whatever she’s thinking about apparently affecting her body. You can even see when her chest rises that her nipples are stiffening again, and you flash back to how much you wish you could have had them between your teeth or fingers this morning when she teased you.

Enough waiting.