As she concentrates on the task at hand he raises a hand and presses lightly against her wide hip, feeling it curve inwards towards a narrow waist. "D...d you need something," she asked as he touched her. "No." he didn't explain or move his hand. His fingers could feel the light outline of a thong under the thin scrubs. Helen feels more uncomfortable as his fingers trace backwards. Still leaning over him she twists her hips forward so her backside is further away, hoping to discourage him. To her. “Hurt?”She grunted, “Yes.”“Good.”“Fuck you,” She chuckled.“You are,” I said, closing my eyes and rotating my hips slowly, then started a slow rhythm.My wife licked her fingers, reached back and smeared more of her spit onto her asshole. She breathed in a steady, focused regularity. I could feel her fingers moving beneath my balls, she was rubbing her clitoris. Her sphincter began to relax. There was shit on my dick. I didn’t stop or wipe it off.“You’re dirty.” I said.“I’m sorry. I didn’t think. More

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