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I apologize for not writing sooner. I have been one busy mother. I guess that can happen when your life suddenly turns around in big ways and it fills up with new responsibilities. My new purpose is teaching young men, of course. Never let it be said that Abbie Haffenshaft is a shirker who doesn’t take her responsibilities seriously and doesn’t finish things. I’ve just been busy, that’s all. Really busy.

Yesterday was not only a day of great discovery but a day of tremendous disappointment for me. It’s not every day that I will encounter a young stud with the stamina Preston possesses and, in the very same afternoon become intimate friends with the biggest, most impressive cock I will likely ever have the good fortune to wrap both of my delicate hands around — and believe me, it took both hands. My life as a teacher picked up steam yesterday.

Still, I didn’t get my pussy trimmed. It had been almost two whole days since I had hacked at my once lovely patch of ‘pubes.’ I’ve actually studied my appearance down there in the mirror quite a lot since, and I’ve decided the best way to describe my botched barbering work is to say that it resembles a ragged, worn-out beach umbrella dangling over my pussy. The fringe is frayed and uneven. My lovely red-gold curls droop down like the tattered fringe of a rag. I have been afraid to trim it anymore because I’m convinced Marty will be able to work wonders with it if I just leave him as much real estate to work with as I can.

To get ready for Marty’s visit I hurried to the mall to be there when it opened. I found a lovely little miniskirt and saucy little bare-midriff blouse that I thought Marty would appreciate. Then I turned my attention to finding shoes and panties. I hadn’t given much thought to my panties until earlier this morning when Liz mentioned her panties had been coming up missing and asked us if we knew anything about it. I wasn’t convinced our students were actually stealing our panties. But after imagining how breathtaking my pussy might look when Marty finished with me, I wanted to be seen in the sleekest, sexiest little underthings I could find. After hearing how excited and positively thrilled Liz and Lena (alias ‘The Silver Fox’) both were with their new appearance, I could hardly wait for my turn under Marty’s razor.

The panties that caught my eye in the lingerie shop were cut a bit differently from any I had ever owned. Now, I have never been fond of wearing those billowing ‘granny-pants’, but I have also never felt comfortable in those skimpy little thong things made of a scrap of lace and some elastic cord. The damned things always manage to get bunched and twisted up between my legs and they never seem to cover any of the important parts. I have never felt comfortable with little bits of string and twisted lace bunched up between the lips of my pussy. They just didn’t make me feel sexy.

The little panties I found were more substantial than a thong, but my grandmother would still have cringed at the very idea of wearing something this wicked. The panties had an actual waistband (of sorts) and not some flimsy elastic cord. The waistband was approximately a half-inch wide and made of stretchy elastic lace. I liked the waistband, but I loved the way these panties came together in the middle. The waistband was designed to sweep up high over the sharp swell of my hips and then swoop down devilishly low across my belly to form a deep ‘V.’ I wasn’t at all sure as I held them up that the tiny lace front panel would even cover the crest of my sweet, pink little opening. On the backside, where the two sides of the lace band joined together, I guessed would meet somewhere deep between the cheeks of my ass. These panties even felt hot to the touch. I snatched up two pairs in black and two pairs in red and hurried to the cash register.

I handed the young clerk the panties and my card and fidgeted while she went to work.

She looked my purchase over, glanced up at me, then down across the counter at my jeans-clad lower half and observed, “You’ve picked out some great badonkadonk panties but you’re not wearin’ the right kind of jeans to make the most of them.”

She continued her work at the register for a moment and then added, “I’ll just bet you’ve got a fine badonkadonk.”

As she finished ringing my panties up, she added, “They’ve got some fine hip-hugger jeans at the shop across the way if you’re interested. It would be a shame to waste these lovely panties by hiding them.” She nodded to the shop behind me as she said this.

Badonkadonk? What on earth is a badonkadonk, I wondered? I was in such a hurry I decided there wasn’t enough time to get the lowdown on badonkadonks. I certainly wasn’t about go shopping for jeans now. The word badonkadonk had a gritty, suggestive sound to it, though. I liked the rough sound it made as it tumbled out of her mouth. I just had to find out what it meant. Expanding my vocabulary would have to wait, though. I was on a tight schedule here and I decided Şişli escort Marty might know what a badonkadonk was. I would ask him later.

Shoes — hot, sexy high heel shoes were next on my to-do list. I marched as fast as I could to the little shoe store Liz had recommended. I wanted a pair of “knock-me-down-and-fuck-me-pumps” to look my best for Marty this afternoon. My time was getting tighter now but I figured if the store had the sort of selection Liz described it wouldn’t take long to find a pair that could land me flat on my back with a certain handsome young man between my legs. The front window of the store looked promising.

“Do you have any black pumps to go with this skirt? Something maybe like that pair in the window with the four-inch heels?” I asked the nice young man at the register, pulling the little skirt out of the bag for him to see.

“Sure!” he told me with a smile, “In fact, if I’m a good judge of shoe sizes I’ll bet we have that very shoe in your size.”

“Sorry, but I’m kind of in a hurry,” I explained, “Can we do this in just a few minutes?”

The salesman was young and rather cute. I suppose my newly awakened interest in the opposite sex had something to do with my even noticing how cute he was. Just the same he was cute — and I also couldn’t help but notice he had a nice tight behind as he scurried off to the backroom for my shoes.

“Let’ see how these fit,” he said as he sat down in front of me and drew the lid off the box.

He paused a moment, glanced at my feet and added, “But first, state health code requires that you wear socks to try on shoes. Let me get a pair for you to put on.”

I had been in a hurry this morning. I pulled on a pair of nice snug jeans and tennis shoes. I had hoped to dash home, make myself extremely presentable in these new clothes, fix a sandwich for Marty and I and still have a couple of minutes to spare. Putting on socks would have slowed me down.

When he returned, he settled onto the stool in front of me, picked up my foot and removed my right shoe. Before I knew what was happening, he lifted my bare foot and began to slip it into the sock he was holding. I had never experienced this kind of service in a shoe store before.

“My name is Adam, by the way, ma’am,” he told me with a smile as he gently eased the sock on my foot.

Adam’s hands were very warm, very gentle and very comforting. It’s difficult not to warm up to a young man who is cuddling and caressing your foot as he smiles up at you.

“My name is Abbie, Adam, and goodness, but you have wonderful hands,” I told him, nodding down to the hand cradling my heel as he smoothed the little sock lovingly over my toes.

“Why, thank you. I want to make you feel as comfortable as I can,” he told me.

He moved to my left foot. He was every bit as considerate with it. He seemed to cradle my foot and my ankle for a bit longer this time, but I didn’t mind. I was looking forward to him slipping my foot into those sexy shoes he was unwrapping.

I had been so distracted by Adam’s caresses that I hadn’t noticed the socks he put on my feet. I had expected them to be run-of-the-mill, cheap cotton anklets. Nothing special. Instead, my feet were clad in those cute white anklets with the lacy cuffs that young girls wear. Even without shoes on my feet I decided I liked the look of them. I suspect Adam liked them too. He grinned and continued to stare at them even as he unwrapped the shoes.

Adam took his time slipping my feet into these shoes. I may have been in a hurry but he was so considerate, almost doting over my feet that I didn’t mind. I even let him caress my calves.

“How do those feel?” he asked.

His question snapped me out of a really lovely little fantasy involving Adam and me. In my fantasy I was already flat on my back, Adam settled in comfortably between my legs and my new shoes were raised high in the air, the spikes of both heels aimed squarely at the ceiling. Adam was much cuter with his face so close to mine and my new shoes were sexy hot on my feet, especially with those cute little anklets.

I snapped out of the daydream, looked my feet and the shoes over and said, “Let me take a few steps and see what they look like.”

I rose then and strolled to the wall to stand in front of the mirror and admire them. Yes, I thought, I was most definitely going to be knocked down and fucked in these shoes. I turned after a long moment or two and strutted my way back to where Adam stood admiring me.

“I’ll take them!” I snapped without hesitation. After a split-second to consider, I added, “And I’ll wear them home. Just box up my old tennis shoes.”

As Adam rang up my shoes. I offered to pay for the anklets too but he waved me off. “They come as a part of trying on the shoes,” he explained, “Besides, you look awfully hot in them, Missy! You look special.”

It felt good to be called Missy. The name made me feel almost like a little girl. I suspected Sultangazi escort bayan Adam had that in mind when he called me Missy. I may be forty-two but it is nice to have young men treat me like a youngster once in awhile. It did make me feel special.

“Sorry I’m in such a hurry or I’d try on another pair of shoes. You have just the sort of shoes I’ve been looking for,” then I added, “Maybe I can come back in a couple of days.”

“Oh, I hope you do!” he told me with an almost wicked gleam in his eye.

“What time do you open Thursday morning?” I asked.

“Ten o’clock – but since you’re a special customer, I could open a little early for you.”

Adam thought for a second and added, “You know, special customers get more personal service.”

“Nine-thirty?” I quizzed.

“O-h-h… How about nine?” he asked with a devilish lilt in his voice.

I may have been in a hurry, but I deliberately took my sweet time strolling out of that little shoe shop. I just knew Adam was watching every bumptious step I took in my new heels. I don’t know what it is about wearing four-inch heels, but I just seem to have more confidence. Strutting away with Adam’s eyes fixed on my shifting hips, I do believe I wanted to be knocked down and fucked right there in the aisle of his shoe store. As I stepped out into the mall, I turned briefly, glanced behind me and discovered my young shoe salesman gazing at me with the warmest, most adoring smile on his face. I smiled back at him and quickly decided Adam would have happily volunteered in that very moment to be the one who knocked me down.

I basked in that raunchy little fantasy all the way to the parking lot. The stifling hot air in my car snapped me out of all those naughty thoughts. It was a quick trip home for me. Once in the house, I showered, did a careful job of applying my makeup and marched out to my bed to survey all my new purchases. I was getting awfully excited, and I could feel a bit of dampness gathering between my legs. That didn’t bother me at all. I actually wanted Marty to know I was all hot and bothered. A bit of my sweet dew on his fingers might send just the right signal to my young ‘beautician’ as he set to work between my open legs.

I stood debating over the new outfit spread out before me for a long time. I wanted to look not just good – I wanted to look hot. For some strange reason I decided not to wear my new panties. In fact, I skipped panties and bra altogether. The new top I had purchased looked for all intents and purposes like a very businesslike white blouse — until you reached the bottom of my boobs. The blouse was made of crisp white cotton, buttoned all the way up to my neck and even had long sleeves. Of course, it was so short it only had five closely spaced buttons. When I tried it on without the bra I was thrilled to discover that the very bottoms of my breasts were just barely visible. I shook from side to side, hopped up and down and found that only the smallest bit of my areola became visible when I made these extravagant moves. That was good enough for me. Having large, heavy breasts got me a lot of attention. Now that I was older and my breasts had begun to settle just the slightest little bit, it only served to make them more appealing.

Looking at myself in the mirror a couple of minutes later, clad in my saucy new mini-skirt, the short blouse and my knock-me-down-and-fuck-me pumps, I decided Marty and I were both going to enjoy this afternoon. I tucked the new panties away in my panty drawer because I didn’t want to influence Marty with my pussy’s appearance in them. If he had the sense of style and knack for an elegant turn of the scissors that Lena and Liz assured me he had, I wanted him to work without any influence from me. I wanted my new panties to come as a thrilling shock to him.

“Come in, Marty! You have no idea how glad I am to see you, young man!” I gushed. I know I sounded eager, but I couldn’t help myself.

Clearly my new outfit was getting me the attention I had hoped for. Marty’s eyes were almost ready to pop out of his head.

“Golly, Mrs. Haffenshaft!… You look –um really, really nice today! Is that a new outfit?” he asked.

I did my best to look surprised by his appreciative comment and did my best to shock him asking, “You don’t think my skirt is too long, do you?”

“Long?… No, I think it’s just right! In fact, it could probably stand to be a little bit shorter,” Marty told me in an almost matter-of-fact way. He thought for another moment and added, “Why, your blouse could even be a little bit shorter too.”

I fought back a laugh at that last bit. If my top were any shorter, he’d probably be nursing on my nipples this very instant!

We didn’t waste any time after this feeble attempt at small talk. I took him straight up to my bathroom and let him begin to unpack his tools on the counter while I watched. I was a little antsy and realized with a start that I was shifting Escort Taksim from foot to foot in the doorway.

“That all looks so professional,” I told him as I admired the gleaming scissors, his razor and the mirror spread out.

When Marty had his equipment spread out and he began to search for a spot for me to sit, I interrupted, saying, “Do you have any idea how you want to shape my… um bush?”

Marty froze, looked me squarely in the eye and said, “I haven’t seen your appearance in the past couple of days. I guess I ought to perform a full evaluation again.” He said this quite flatly, then added, “Why don’t you take off your clothes so I can see what I have to work with.”

I was almost ashamed to undress. Marty seemed a little forbidding with the way he asked his question and I just knew he was going to tell me how hideous my chopping and slashing made my belly look. I wanted to apologize even before I shimmied out of my skirt.

“Well,… what do you think?” I asked nervously now that I was nude before him except for my heels.

Marty was silent as he gazed at my belly, then looked me up and down from my head to my lovely new heels. Finally, he spoke, asking me simply, “Would you put your foot on the corner of the sink here?” He motioned to the corner of the sink nearest me and then stood back to wait.

He stared at my legs and my pussy for the longest time. I couldn’t tell if he was upset by my half-assed razor work or enjoying the sight of my pussy brazenly on display like this. It turns out, as he later told me, he was only trying to draw some sort of inspiration from my pose. I’m sure I looked pretty slutty with my leg up like this and my pussy spread open inches from his inquisitive eyes.

“Mrs. Haffenshaft, I hate to ask you this, but could we move everything to your bed? I’m having trouble getting a real vision of how your pussy should look. I had a great idea a couple of days ago but not now. Maybe if we moved to your bed something will come to me.”

Marty had me worried. Lena and Liz had both told me Marty had come up with a fully formed concept for their pubic areas almost immediately.

“Has my botched trimming down there made it too difficult, Marty? If it has, I’m so sorry,” I told him as we gathered up his tools and I pulled out a nice, plush towel to rest my bottom on.

“No-no! Not at all! I just feel like there’s something missing,” he said thoughtfully, and added, “It’s almost like there is something else I need to see or have in the picture before I can get the contours for your belly just right.”

Marty continued mulling this over as I ran a small basin of warm water for his work.

“It’s like something is missing,” he said. I know he was thinking out loud to himself, but it gave me an idea.

I set the basin down on the nightstand and said, “Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt but perhaps I can help. I bought new panties this morning. I was planning to put them on as a sort of celebration when you finished. I have really been looking forward to this,” I told him and then I realized I wasn’t getting to the point. “Anyway — these panties are different from anything I’ve ever worn before. Would it help if I showed them to you?”

“Well, sure. If you want to,” he told me. I could tell he was only humoring me. I’m not sure he wanted to see me cover my nether regions again at all.

I was off to my lingerie drawer in a flash. “Here,” I said as I held them up between the thumbs of both hands and suspended them in front of me. Even stretched between my two thumbs the deep ‘V’ in them looked damned hot.

The sight of my panties took Marty by surprise. His face lit up instantly as he shouted out, “That’s it! That is exactly what’s missing!”

“Want me to put them on and model them for you?” I asked. Based on how excited he was from just seeing me hold them up, I expected he might jump all over the chance to actually see my hips, pussy and ass encased in this sweet bit of lace. I know I certainly wanted to feel my little pussy snuggled up inside the tiny bit of material I was holding. My clit was already stirring with the promise they offered.

“Nope!” he replied. “I’ve got all I need now,” he added with certainty as he motioned for me to perch on the edge of the bed.

His confidence left me a bit disappointed. I just knew these panties would feel so deliciously comforting spread over the sweet real estate between my legs.

After kneeling in front of me and spreading my knees out wide, Marty unceremoniously inserted his thumb directly into my opening. I would have objected to this kind of rude treatment, but at the same time he also spread his palm across my clit. I guess I was more excited than I realized because I let out a long, most unladylike groan and thrust my belly out hard against his palm.

Marty held his probing hand firm and steady, pinning me so that I could manage little more than a few useless fidgets. I quickly grew frustrated — until Marty began to pivot his palm slowly, painstakingly across my clit like a windshield wiper working in slow motion. His fingers weren’t doing a damn thing to clear all the gooey moisture of my excitement off my opening, though. In fact, my clit was actually beginning to put up a lot of resistance to his swiping motions.

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