It was her friend Jo from work, who she had invited around to lend him a book- or so she said. Jo was a little taller than myself, around 6ft tall but...wasn't as muscular. I had heard stories from work about how Jo was good looking and had a way with the ladies, and I could tell he was excited to see Stacey nipples protruding from her top. Just as we were starting to talk my phone went and I was being called away- it was a local job so I left Stacey and Jo in the house and said I would return in. The smell of his sweat was pungent and I struggled to not get sick. I sucked on just his tip as he refocused on sucking me off. We both were going at it and once again I was getting close. The man's rod was growing in my hand as I regulated how much he put in my mouth from all his pelvic thrusting into my face. Once he was fully erect. He moved onto his knees. He had me get onto all fours. The man squeezed my ass hard. Then pried me open, he spit into my crack. I saw him in the mirror holding. I heard him say. "So which category are you in?" Huh, sorry, I didn't quite catch that," I said."I was saying most of us are in one or the other, which are you?" One or the other what, Dick?" So are you kinky, straight or perverted?"I needed to give that some thought, especially as I'd already drunk more than a bottle of red. "Um, gimme a minute on that, willya?" Sure, take your time."It was a weeknight and we all had to be at work the next morning at seven, sober or not. The place was pretty. It contained a four poster bed, lace curtains, chest of drawers, and claw foot iron bathtub. There was a large sepia photo on the wall showing the ranch manager and his family. Calvin knew that many of the ranches, mines and timber tracts were founded by British financiers who placed their trustworthy manager/agents onsite to oversee the operations. The London based owners supplied investment capital and industrial equipment to the remote sites, sold the enterprises’ products and reinvested the.