Then, Jane throated his long shaft, taking his cock entirely down to the base, and then licking his balls with her tongue. “SON-OF-A-BITCH!” he e...claimed. He had never had a blow-job like this. Not from former girlfriends and certainly not from his current, near-frigid wife.Licker smelled the sexual odors emanating from the two humans. The smell inflamed his unquenched desires. He walked behind Jane, sniffing at her skirt-covered cunt, searching for the source of his urgent, sexual relief. In. That was completely the wrong direction, but we had to get to Waterloo Station to board the train south-west to Weymouth. The last time I’d been on a train was with mum and dad, years ago. The one from Waterloo was much longer, but not exactly glamorous. Still, it was interesting to gaze out the window as we sped through London, watching the dense housing become a patchwork of fields.It was a three-hour journey, with Weymouth the very last station on the line. Metres further and you’d literally. More

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