Sitting on a bench on the midway, Steve could see the trash all around - candy wrappers, drink cups, a few religious brochures, and, looking directly ...own, a used condom. *Not Great America.* he thought. Tinny music came from the cracked speakers under the Tilt-A-Whirl across the way. Looking at the chipped and faded paint, marred here and there by rust spots, Steve, who fancied himself a poetic soul at times, likened it to a pathetic attempt at a song of seduction sung by a wrinkled whore,. My wife's dark hair was matted with sweat, and I could see the pure pleasure on her face as the young stud fulfilled her desires with his big cock.My own cock was rock hard in my suit pants. I was a fifteen year's older than my wife, which meant over 20 years older than the young stud fucking her. He was tall, muscular, and endowed with a cock a least half again as big as mine. My wife was in perfect shape, her slim hips, tight ass, and full firm tits more than enough to draw the eye of this. More

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