Past Blog: WETLESBIANS had no chance before spring to repeat our treat. I thought perhaps Alice had retreated from playing. Then, one sunny spring afternoon, I stepped into my tiny yard, and looked over Alice¡¦s fence. I wondered why she had installed an old-fashioned tub in her backyard. Alice was working in her flower garden, weeding and nourishing her beauties. I stood there, admiring how her full breasts hung silhouetted by the sunlight, braless inside her cotton dress. She paused to wipe a drop of sweat from her brow with her gloved hand, leaving a streak of dirt in its path.
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