" You're right; I'm not a great fan of beer." Perhaps I will call you Moll for short."Matilda sat up straight, and without the hint of a smile, "In yo...r dreams pal."I smiled inwardly, Rory my man, I think you may have just hit pay dirt."So, Moll," I smiled, "what would you like for dessert?" I think I'm about done here." Agreed, I'm full too, somewhere less conspicuous would be nice."Still, with a straight-face, Matilda inquired, "Your place or mine?"I had indeed hit pay dirt. That was six. Good... lay?"The way she asked the question, haltingly, uncertain, like she really didn't know, made me want to assure her."You're the best!" How do you know? Shouldn't you check?"My cock was fully extended, pressing against her pussy. It felt open and damp."It's not necessary to check. I already know you're a good lay," I teased.The head of my cock was buried in her pussy and we were dangerously close to full insertion. I knew she was on the edge and wouldn't have objected if I had pushed. I thought I heard a loud bang out on the street but I was too focused on dumping my load in her rectum to take a look. A passerby called the police. The department’s Media Liaison Group managed to keep the press from learning why Tom blew his brains out. The Boston Globe has always been a team player and cop suicides were a downer. Of course, the real reason spread through the department overnight along with copies of the video and letter. I was surprised it didn’t make YouTube. I. Sistook the husband back to her house where Becky was“discovered” riding Sis’ husband for “revenge”. Sisput the shocked husband on the bed next to the othercouple and worked on finishing what they had beeninterrupted doing. She told him, “Guess this is theway it is now.” He accepted his “fate” with a roaringejaculation as he watched his own wife beinginseminated.Although Steve was enjoying all the pussy andcompanionship of home, he began to.