Lucille knew that her husband Peter was upstairs fooling around with her best friend Sally in the bathroom, but she was not in the least bit disturbed...because Sally’s husband Henry was under the kitchen table getting acquainted with her new French undies as she wrapped the sandwiches for the half day drive up from Arizona to the twenty four hour fuck-fest oasis in the desert. In a way, she was relieved that both her husband Peter and Sally’s husband Henry were more interested in things like. You’re mine,” I tease. He lifts an eyebrow in response before kissing me again. His fingertips graze across my skin, exploring every sensitive area. “Daniel," I gasp his name, as he tenderly licks up and down my neck. I can feel his arousal against my own, and I grind my hips against his. His large hands hold me at the hips, stopping me and making me still. He goes down my body kissing and sucking up my calves. Butterfly kisses rest on the sensitive flesh behind my knees, leaving traces of. More

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