It didn't bother me. She said he was a nitwit. Even the overnighters to Reno or Los Angeles or Portland were okay.She was still gorgeous. She was stil... fucking me blind. She was still saying she loved me. And the little recorder that I had hidden in her purse was still telling me that she was exactly where she said she was, doing exactly what she said she was doing. I wasn't dumb. I read the stories online, and while I knew that they were fiction, they had a gram of truth to them.In January of. It did not take long before I felt my shorts being pushed down my long legs to my ankles, with one leg being eased out of them, now I was free to open them as far as he wished, and instinctively started to mount him, I wanted to fuck, but he wanted me to lick his scrotum, so I sank down on my knees in front of him, as he guided his cock into my eager mouth.'Eight inches sweetmeat', was his reply, and I looked up at him from his crotch, he was answering my question, and as if to confirm his. More

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