His long, thick cock had stretched into a heavy, weighted hardness at the conglomeration of his thoughts, straining inside his clothing, and he shifte... and pulled at his crotch to ease the bind. He picked up his cigar from the ashtray lighting it again while his liquor-roused brain filled with patches of thought concerning Jean Blakely nakedly finger-fucking herself, and his dead sister's daughter moving around the kitchen in her nightie and wrapper. Sonofabitch, maybe both... but at least one. But the pleasure of her bowels drowned out the fear of our husband catching us. The wet glide of my cock sliding through her bowels rose over the boiling of the rice cooker.“Yes,” I hissed. “Such a tight ass. I'm going to—”“What degeneracy is this!” boomed our husband as I drew out of her asshole. “What are you...?”Fear shot through me. I froze, my cock half-way out of her asshole. His eyes stared at us, fixed on my girl-shaft. His jaw dropped. His bristling beard seemed to wilt as he stared at. More

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