’nazoo, someone’s outside,’whispered clare. She was sitting up, scrambling to get out of her sleeping bag.’calm down,’ i answered sleepily. ...��It’s probably just the farmer checking his river hasn’t run away.’ i giggled and then sat upright as a voice intruded.’bonjour?’ the voice was female and sounded cross. ‘Est-ce que quelqu’un est dedans là?’ whoever it was shook the tent.’wait! We’re coming, we’re coming,’ called clare. She unzipped the doorway and i followed her wonderful smooth legs and. “That was fucking gorgeous,” she said. “Claire’s a lucky cunt to get that. Do you fuck often?”“Three times a week,” I said.“What’s she like?”We cuddled on the sofa and she questioned me in detail about how my wife fucked and what she felt like and tasted like.“Look,” I said. “She’s out of it. Come up and you can play with her cunt.”She looked shocked and excited. I took her by the hand and led her up the stairs. We pushed the door open and I called out to Claire. There was no answer. We. More

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