"I can't. I… I like it, but…"
Alas, victory!
Syril didn't wait to hear the rest. He didn't bother listening to her 'buts.' He had heard what he needed to hear.
His fingers danced to the folds of the towel, the area holding the wool firmly on her body, and in one swift move, he loosened the towel.
It didn't make noise. The towel fell with a soft, almost inaudible thud, exposing the glory of Sherry's body.
"Ah! Syril?!" Sherry exclaimed in shock.
Syril took two steps back to drink the figure before him.
There, a perfect picture.
Her dampened brown hair splayed beyond her collar bone with wet strands clinging uselessly on her thick body. And just around the edges of her mass of hair, twin bundle of joy stood erect.
Her breasts were full and bodacious, rigid and firm despite her age. They were glorious, a splendour that left Syril's mouth gaped.
