I married a man named Pickle. He was of Italian descent and I believe the original family name was Piccolo but, as so often happened, it was shortened...when his ancestors arrived at Ellis Island. Apparently the person who registered them had a sense of humor.’ ‘My name is Dillon, Dillon Sweet, but my friends call me Dill.’ ‘Dill Sweet,’ she replied, ‘what an appropriate name for a pickle lover.’ ‘Exactly.’ ‘Well I hope you enjoy your pickles and come back and see me. I’m here every Saturday. She was grinding her pussy on my leg slightly and I was grinding my throbbing bone on her leg. We kept staring into each others eyes. Do you feel that, I asked. Mmmmm hmmmmm she replied while biting her lip. What do you think I asked. In a very breathy whisper she replied I love what I'm feeling down there. Yeah I asked. She just nodded. Her breathing was so ragged that she was almost out of breath. She reached down and gripped my covered cock. Our eyes simultaneously popped open as did our. More

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