She checked the temperature and took off her robe. She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror...mmm she thought not bad for 42. She cupped her B cup...breasts and weighed them in her hands. She varied between a B and a C cup. She had a sleeper in her left nipple. It had been there since before she met John. Her breasts were good. John loved them. She hadn't breast fed so they were still in great shape. Pert and proud. Her phone pinged, it was her eldest son David. He wouldn't be home till. Oh, and just in case you are wondering, he’s “really fucking boring in bed” and it was “like sleeping with some fucking caveman” and he “wouldn’t know how to find my g-spot if I gave him a fucking map”. And I do apologise for Pippa’s potty mouth, I know it is a little extreme, but I did want to give you a flavour of what I had to endure. So to cut through all the flim flam, the bottom line was that Jimmy had read my little Blog and having ruined Pippa’s fun with her favourite bunny proceeded. More

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