"The only breasts I ever see are my wife's and well, they're not as nice as yours."

With that I stood up and moved towards him. I sat on the edge of his recliner and placed my hand on his stomach.

"Can I see it?"

"Phoebe you know, that's not a good idea."

"Please."

"You're married to my son. It's not really sensible."

"Please. Pretty please," I whined in my best school girl voice.

"I don't think you should."

I slid my hand down onto his shorts and over his bulge. He literally jumped at the feel of my hand on his shorts. I sat there for a minute with...