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Some barged in, often drunk, and I knew I would hurt a bit. Some tapped ever so gently on the door, and I knew they were ashamed of being here. Some l...ngered in the doorway, attempting to project suave, others rushed about everything as if I charged by the minute. But nobody ever knocked. I called out, “Come in?” and the door opened. I was agape. What was this kind of man doing here? He was wearing a simple, tight white T-shirt, with a gold arrow in the right breast, and plain denim jeans. He. But now, after several years of the same arguments, the same unrepentant behavior, he was just sick of it. And he was going to do something about it. Yes, his sex life was about to take a turn back to the wild side…and so was his beloved bride’s, whether she wanted it or not. * * * * Andrea was headed home from her latest shopping expedition, overburdened with the fruits of her day’s efforts, her overheated credit card still just starting to cool down in her purse, when it happened. She didn’t. He looked back at the table. His wife was just coming down the last step into the basement. She had a pair of small orange shorts on. They were pulled tight on her large ass, and thick thighs. I could see her big camel toe was pushing out the front. She had slipped on some orange wooden 4inch heels to match her big orange hoop earrings. She had a white see through shirt pulled over her large cleavage. I could see her big fat nipples bent over at the tips, against the thin cotton. "And now, drink," commanded Sir Edmund.The paralyzed wretch drank with a well-nigh filthy ecstasy at one long gluttonous draft. AgainSimone sucked and wanked him; he continued gurgling desperately and reveling in it. With ademented gesture, he bashed the sacred chamber-pot against a wall. Four robust arms lifted himup and, with open thighs, his body erect, and yelling like a pig being slaughtered, he spurted hiscome on the hosts in the ciborium, which Simone held in front of him while.
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