‘Champagne?’ ‘You live well. I mustn’t be the only rich woman.’ I saw her looking at a door that didn’t seem to go anywhere. ‘That’s t...e roof terrace, go up and I’ll bring your drink.’ Amélié — that was her name — smiled and went up there. One of the gadgets in the kitchen was a control panel laptop-type contraption that meant I could control almost everything electrical in the house. I pressed some buttons and the lights and patio heater came on up on the roof. I poured champagne and went up. He helped her to the floor and reconnected the links between the cuffs. To get her arms down far enough Linda had to press her tits into the fake bearskin rug and spread her legs wide apart. John shucked the pants and slipped behind his obscenely open wife. He slipped inside her and quickly buried himself as deep as he could go. Grabbing her hips he began to stroke her until her red ass pressed against him with each thrust. Linda was gone, she had fallen into one continuous combination of. More

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