She took both of them into her hands, without as much as a thought for a bra and petticoat.She hated the weight and pressure of undergarments. Wheneve... possible she simply discarded them. Manya loved to feel the fabric rub against her supple and sexy flesh, especially around her glorious hips and asscheeks.Not wearing a petticoat beneath a semi transparent saree gave a complete exposure of her lower treasures and fleshy thighs.But she didn't care. She felt fully liberated whenever she dressed. My wife not wishing to be harpooned by this monster decided she would ride the shaft. I lay back as she lowered her now dripping cunt down unto this trunk. It slipped slowly into the hole and she moaned as it entered her ever receptive pussy. Slowly at first she tested the depths to which this monster of a shaft wold go to. Then her movement up and down the shaft increased as her pleasure increased. After minutes (another improvement) her movement up and down the shaft increased and she. "As they exit the house Rodwell puts the baby monitor down, pulls my wife close, deep tongue kisses her and says "you're an incredible woman! So very, very beautiful, but yet kind, compassionate, loving and absolutely enjoy being a mother, I couldn't imagine a better mother for my 3 babies with more to come!" They tenderly kissed for several minutes as both enjoyed their connection and what was to shortly come, only question was how many eggs my wife has waiting to be fertilized.Rodwell leaned. “You’ve held that in for two years?” she cried. “My poor Jacob. My darling, darling Jacob.” Her arm wrapped around my chest and she hugged herself to me. “Those things you remember ... the recovered memories of your past life ... those things really happened to you, didn’t they?”“Yes,” I croaked. “Eighty years, ten months, and twelve days. I lost my first wife, Rebecca, to cancer. My second wife to a deteriorating heart. I left behind a son and a daughter and four grandchildren, one of them.