Her surprised glancehad not been because her son was kissing her, but because a kiss hadin no way figured in that fantasy place where she was reliving...lastnight. With Kevin gone, she still was wrapped in lust. She ran herhands over her thighs, revelling in the sensation of hot, sticky cumgiving way to the small rough mesh of fibers of her stockings. Shecontinued to massage the cum into her legs, then she picked up onehand and examined the goo all over her fingers. Dreamily, sheexamined the. Her toenails were painted a whorish shade of red. Her breasts jiggled in her blouse, her eyes so wide.I reached through the door, unlocked it.“Yes, yes, yes!” my wife moaned, her voice drifting through the studio. “That’s it! Oh, fuck, Mitch! Pound me!”“Mmm, work that pussy, Dianne!” a man growled. The voice of the asshole fucking my wife.I gripped the tire iron. The impulse to go in there and beat him to death seized me. This moment of wild rage. I could utterly destroy him but ... Then he. More

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