I take my spices home for my husband and me. He doesn't know where I pick them. He doesn't even know that I pick them. But he enjoys.I won't lie to yo....I don't do it for him. I do it mainly for myself. Once in a while I have to indulge. It is like the need to plunge into a shimmering pool on a scourging day. Like the soothing balm on a parched skin. A cooled can against a sweaty brow.You get it, I'm sure.It is my escape from yawning boredom. It saves my life. And George's, my husband's, for. Her legs were spread and her wet pussy beckoned me. I got up to my knees, I wasn’t ready to give her my cock yet. This might be the last time I saw her and I wanted to make the most of it. I took her right wrist and guided her hand back between her thighs, while moving the left one to her breasts. I leant and watched, as Hazel got the message and began sliding a finger through her pussy lips. Her left hand was alternating between her breasts, pinching each nipple in turn. I was kneeling between. More

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