The housewife's box, part 2

You remain kneeling quietly on the floor, still not moving. With the housewife's breathing returned to regularity, your mind drifts away from her and back on to yourself. You are somewhat surprised to find that your body seems to have been satisfied by your encounter with the housewife. You were fully expecting to return to your senses only to feel as if your skin were crawling off your bones, but apparently giving the woman a mind-blowing orgasm satiated whatever it is in you that demands sexual activity. Your hands, clasped together in your lap, do not feel an intrinsic and insistent desire to slip inside your skirt, nor do you feel at all empty that you did not just receive an orgasm. Rather, you feel pleasantly relaxed.

As you sit an ruminate on this unexpected condition of tranquility, the housewife's breathing takes on the even and steady pattern of the slumbering. You realize with a start that your "fellow deliverymen" are waiting for you outside, so you shift your weight as quietly as you can and rise to standing. You pull the cups of your bra back up to cover your breasts, and adjust them properly with light pushing and pulling. You button your shirt back up (most of the way), then bend over to pick up your electronic signature pad off the low coffee table, and to make your silent exit.

Just as your fingers make contact with the signature pad, you are practically startled out of your skin by the housewife's voice. "Leaving so soon?" Her eyelids flutter open, she releases her fetal grip on her knees, and sits up on the couch. Her legs are pressed together, but her robe is still open, and bent over towards the table, you are looking almost directly at her exposed and impressive breasts. She notices your gaze, and smiles as she looks back at you. "I must admit, honey, that the cleavage you are showing right now is quite tantalizing, but I did prefer to see those shapely globes in their entirety. I am glad that you enjoy mine." She smiles again, and cups a hand under each of her own breasts, judiciously lifting and squeezing them. "They are holding up quite well, I think. That all may change, but for the moment, quite well." She drops her hands back to her thighs.

"Yes, well, it was nice meeting you." You curse at yourself for how stupid you sound, but you have no idea what else to say. "I should probably be going now." You grab the signature pad and stand back up straight.

"Now hold on just a moment, if you would." The woman's voice is soft and quiet, but there is something in it that demands your attention. "You have not yet seen what is in my box ... well ... at least, not what is in the package on the table." The housewife smiles, and recrosses her legs, giving you a brief glimpse between them. Even though you just had your whole face between her legs, the slight and abbreviated view of her pussy is quite sexy, and you feel your skin begin to tingle lightly again. The housewife gestures at the table. "Why don't you put down your little pad, and open the box?"

Nothing could stop you from doing exactly what the housewife says. It is not so much that you feel you that you MUST do what the woman says, but rather that you very much WANT to do what she says. You place the signature pad back down on the coffee table, and pick up the box. It weighs several pounds, and you scrape up the corner of the strip of packing tape on it with your fingernail. The woman stands up and walks over to you as you pull off the tape, and open it up.