Grabbing a sweet burgundy, I worked to move even farther into the house. My man followed, now curious as to why I needed a whole bottle of wine, fanta...ies filling his head as I let him ponder it. Stepping into a small room with a twin bed, I sighed, it would have to do, at least it was unoccupied. Smiling with that good talk, I smashed the wine top on the oak dresser, having forgot a corkscrew. Laying out on the bed, I wiggled out of my lace panties, happy when my wet pussy felt a breath of. Next he thought his shoes were not clean enough so he gave them a polish. What had he done with the theatre tickets? He spent a fruitless half hour emptying his wallet and desk drawers only to remember that he was going to pick them up at the box-office on arrival. He mentally kicked himself. After that he checked his drinks cupboard and the fridge for cold drinks. That set him off dithering about whether to get ice out now and into a cool box. He finally decided it could wait. Had he got. She damn near gave me a blow job on the drive home. Back at the bat cave we shagged like teens on prom night and then dropped off to sleep. I kept thinking I'd bring up New Year's Eve, but didn't manage to do so. Then two nights later we were deep into foreplay when she said something shocking. Since early in our marriage we'd learned to say naughty things during sex and then we transitioned to wickedly naughty story telling while probing, teasing, squeezing, and sucking. It was a blast.. ‘You are beautiful,’ he whispered. ‘So pale and perfect, like a velvety cream rose bud plucked from an English garden.’ Her breathe shuddered from her lungs as his hands lightly traced her breasts, caressing the sensitive skin. Her lips parted instinctively beneath his as they closed over hers. Quivers raced down between her thighs as his fingers toyed with her breasts, tugging and pinching their rosy tips. She arched against him, pressing against his hands as she tentatively kissed him back. .
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