#178768 - When she turned her head she could see his white tee-shirt was pulled up high on his abdomen, his yellow shorts (commando – no jockeys today!) down around his legs, below his knees. Nor were his hopes in vain! Sheila was in a much better mood that evening, and her internal 'bunny-batteries' were charged and ready to drum, or was it bang? Shela reclined on the divan like a diva awaiting a rendezvous, as indeed she was – awaiting an assignation, with her son. Things might get shaky, like the butterflies in her tummy, which were fluttery.
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