She was as passionate as he could hope for--but he was entirely impotent now. She had known that from the first--he believed in full disclosure--but she said it didn't matter. He hoped that she was right.Charlie even went so far as to call Carol and tell her about JoAnn. "I think I'm over you," he even said--but not quite; "Don't crook your finger at me, Carol,"--it was an old joke between them, that he would come to her at the least hint of her beckoning--"This is a lady I don't want to hurt." I'm happy for you, Charlie," she said. "I can hardly believe it, but that's wonderful. I hope it works out for you." It didn't, of course. They had much in common, and he could satisfy her easily with his hands and with his mouth--but JoAnn found it hard to accept that she could do nothing for him. He cared for her deeply, and did grow to love her in a way; but there was no passion there, however hard he tried to make it so. She wasn't Carol. Her ghost was with him still. JoAnn and Charlie. I did a little wave and then tugged on my nipples playfully, putting on a show for him. I held my breasts in each hand, massaging them and rubbing them, the nipple running through my fingers. He readjusted himself a few times, which was my signal that he approved of what I was doing. Enough is enough, I thought, as I disappeared from his view. I found my short satin robe, put that on and left my house, hoping that the neighbors wouldn't see a barely clothed young woman trek next door. I padded up his front steps and knocked lightly on the door. It did not take long for him to answer. I smiled at him seductively, grabbing the tie of my robe and swinging it playfully in little circles. The robe had fallen away at the front slightly, my left breast was on display for him, the cool night air making it a hard little point. What a sight that must have been for him---a barely clothed woman on his front doorstep, breasts on display and some of his cum from earlier slowly dripping from within.
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