But most of all, she wished. She wished he wasn’t done. She wanted him to continue. When she heard his zipper, she smiled to herself. He wasn’t do...e yet.The two hands grabbed her hips and lifted, pulling her to her knees. Her face rested on the floor and her ass stuck in the air. She felt his cock tease her pussy, his head rubbing against her clit, sliding against her lips, coating itself in her juices, but never slipping in. She started to whine and moan, hating herself for giving in so much. Johnson had always been friendly. I wasn’t sure of his age, but estimated he was approximately 65. He still had a full head of hair, but it was completely grey. He was tall, about 6 feet, overweight and had a large potbelly and grey stubble on his face. The following week when Mr. Johnson invited me in for a cold drink, I decided it would be rude to decline. We sat in the kitchen, at an old table, and he set out a plate of cookies and poured me a glass of lemonade. “I never see you invite. More

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