‘You’re a brilliant pianist,’ I said, still moved by her impromptu performance. ‘Do your family and friends appreciate your talent?’ ‘My w...nderful father did when he was alive,’ she responded. ‘I used to give recitals for…friends, from the country club. Now I just play for Denise – that’s my mother – and my teaching colleagues, since we’re no longer members of the club.’ She seemed to be engrossed in thought, speaking as if I were hardly there. ‘And your husband? Does he? I mean, did he…?’ I. You touch just the tip again and make a small subtle swirling motion with the tip of your finger at the very top of the head of my penis, and after a second or two, you stop again.“Please?” I ask you.“You have to ask better than that,” you reply to me, never looking away from my eyes, still sporting that clever mischievous smile.All I can muster in a groaning tone is, “I want you now. On top of me…”You say, “Say my name when you tell me how you want me.”I am almost delirious from the heat in. It wasn't long before she grabbed my hand and pulled me from the bar to look at the snow sculptures. We walked, we looked, we laughed and we kissed. We walked around for about a half hour then headed towards the cabins where it turned out that her friends had a cabin just past ours. As we headed back our conversation turned to sex. “So when was the last time you had sex?” She asked. “About a week before she left.” I smiled embarrassed a little. “Not really wanted it since then.” She gasped at. Each time she felt the soft brush of the lower part of the wrinkled flesh sack, Amy couldn't help but think that it meant he was thrusting the full length of his huge prick into Roberta's pussy... ... which only made Amy remember, mentally and physically, what it had been like to have that same immense prick shoved all the way up into her own tight cunt.Minutes passed, Amy hadn't come again, but was instead being held at a high plateau of arousal, just short of orgasm. She felt as if she were.