She wondered if he found his clothes in a dumpster. He didn’t smell. He was clean but he never shaved. In the way that Vincent van Gogh always had a...scraggly beard, he had a scraggly beard that he didn’t trim. Obviously his appearance wasn’t as important to him as was the faces he drew. In the frightful mess that his hair was always in, he’d cover his head with a baseball cap rather than comb or brush his hair, she wondered if he even had a mirror. * * * * * When the weather grew colder and. My husband came to the bed and played with my pussy. He licked my pussy folds and brought me to orgasm. I was playing with my breasts making my nipples hard, while he enjoyed my pussy. I had an orgasm on his face. When he was done, he went back over to the chair. Troy got on the bed and I climbed on top of him. I positioned my pussy over his hard cock and eased myself down slowly. His cock was tremendous as my tight little pussy accommodated his huge prick. Once inside, I rocked my hips back. More

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