The whole day passed in a haze of sex. By evening, my wife refused to have anymore sex because her pussy and breasts were too sore from all the rough ...ex she had enjoyed. So, we all sat down to watch porn together and we kissed and licked my wife's battered pussy to make it feel better.Later that evening, after dinner, we fooled around on the sofa, my wife sitting between the two of us, while we fondled and caressed her softly. Uncle was playing with her breasts and begging that he wanted to. It rose just a little, but enough for the side of her thigh and a hint of buttocks to come into my view. When she swiveled a little and dropped to one knee, I was able to see a very pretty thigh peeking from under her skirt. As I watched her, there seemed to be a certain … well … poetry to her movement. Corny, right? The predictable metaphor embarrasses me a little, but it is nonetheless true. What I mean is that she moved with a certain amount of grace, an economy of movement. She moved from. More

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