Brett, watching his wife deliver stroke after stroke must have had the same idea for he slid a thin pillow under Lynette's head. Still Olga struck wit... the knout on Lynette's pussy; rhythmically, methodically. The knots hit sometimes on the larger lips, sometimes in between, sometimes on the bone. All of Lynette's skin shone with her sweat. I stretched out my hand to caress her breast, still purple from yesterday's exertions but Brett held my wrist."You can't touch her," he said, "not with your. It was particularly hot that day and she asked if I would like to stop in for a cool glass of lemonade. She got the lemonade and we sat down in her living room. After several minutes of talking about the weather and my job, she asked me how my social life was going. I told her it was pretty much non-existent. She said hers was too. Her husband had passed away several years ago and, although she occasionally went out, it always turned out to be disappointing. Finishing my lemonade, I started to. More

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