The fine form of a woman's body

Tonight I'm over at the Chinese buffet place, yapping with my sons about their day, and in walks a woman carrying a baby in a plastic carrier; along with her is her husband and two tow-headed sons. The woman is blonde with perky breasts trying to hide under a pink sweater. As I'm chatting with the boys, I watch the family; well, actually, I'm watching her as she moves amongst the tables and the ferns, low light of the restaurant playing gently on her features. I imagine the touch of her skin, the smell of her hair, the sweetness of her breath. Her husband goes to park the car (parking just sucks, you know) and she reaches up to kiss him, lips to lips and more than a brush and I wish it were me. And she slides into the booth and her sweater rides up and a swear I see the top of her underwear creeping above her jeans and a hint of flesh...

Later, at the PTA meeting, I meet one of Ralph's friend's mother. Nice looking; tall with a slightly upturned, little nose, bright brown eyes, blushing cheeks. We walked back from the classroom to the meeting and I was watching her ass as it filled out her jeans nicely. The jeans were worn in all the right places. At the meeting, I was sitting across the way from her; she caught me, several times, staring. I asked Ralph if she was married. He didn't know. I told him to find out; he wanted to know if he should ask Mercer tonight. I laughed and told him to wait until tomorrow.