Her breasts fell free of the material and I could see the imprints in her skin where the bones of the corset had been tight. I longed to touch the red...ridges, to run my fingers over them, kiss them, lick them. She reached down and slowly undid each of the clips around her stockings. Pulling down the skirt she was now only wearing her socks and a tiny thong. I was wet. She slowly slipped onto the bed and placing a hand on my chest she pushed me down. She straddled my hips and ground her mound. Paul opened it and was obviously shocked. “What are you doing here?”I asked if his offer still stood. “Yes,” he said and let me in. In the kitchen was the cute guy who’d held the door open for me earlier in the day. Paul introduced me and the guy seemed surprised so I ran with it. Though they’d obviously talked, it seemed this guy didn't believe I was Paul’s friend. So I said, “Well, I'm more a friend of his cock,” and his jaw dropped. “It’s a lot bigger than my husband’s and a girl needs a. One night I heard her over the phone begging Butch to let her come over. She said “I’ll even do a threesome with your new girlfriend, let me come over tonight”? But he hung up so I knew Butch had dumped my wife for good. Still, my wife’s personality stayed the same and in a good way. Now her new sex drive was directed at me. Apparently, Butch had turned her into a real whore. Debbie fucked me like she did when we were in our twenties. Almost every night I got laid in every position imaginable. "Gregory Bastille watched Gordon Wilson exit the hotel where Wilson had spent the night. Large bodyguards flanked Wilson on each side as he hurried into the rear seat of a sedan. Bastille didn't follow the sedan when it pulled away from the curb. Wilson was being driven to his offices, where he'd remain until the end of the workday. The target was being a careful man."Not careful enough, though," Bastille whispered to himself as the sedan disappeared from his view.Two hours later, Bastille.
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