She whimpered, the bed creaking as she shuddered on it. I loved how she moved. How her juices soaked into my hand.I plunged my finger into her pussy's...depths. I churned her up. She whimpered and shuddered. Her pussy squeezed down around my digits. She quivered on the bed. She shook from side to side. I suckled with hunger on her. My cheeks hollowed.“Yes, yes, yes!” she moaned. “Oh, Mommy loves that. Yes, finger Mommy. Get me ready for your big, hard futa-cock.”My dick throbbed. I suckled hard. In Carmel, there are no street addresses. This is by choice, for Carmelites like their privacy and the daily trip to the post office where they pick up their mail, meet friends, and chat, sometimes having coffee. It is said that, sooner or later, you see and meet everyone at the Carmel Post office. Each morning around nine, after a bracing walk on the beach, Kim would drive to the post office, park and go to their mail box. Each morning she saw an air mail letter, her heart would pound, for it. More

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