Soon enough, a car pulled in. It matched what he said he had and I walked over, my legs clumping hard and seemingly detached from my body. Butterflies... I had fucking bats. The drive over was uneventful, me grunting one word answers and not being able, or willing, to formulate, or garnish my responses with anything articulate. It was established that he liked to smoke hashish. When I entered his house, with the lights blazing, I was able to soak in what was about to take control of me, but first. She woke up and smiled at me and said, "Today, Jason fisted me! We're going to have to try that when we get home!" "Sure," I said, wondering if Jason was stretching my wife's cunt beyond recovery. Saturday finally arrived and Tina put clothes on for the first time all week. As I put our luggage in the trunk and thanked Linda, Tina was in the foyer, her skirt up at her waist and leaning on the stairs, taking Jason's monster up her cunt one more time for a good-bye fuck. Tina slept all the way. More

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