A voice comes out “Get over it baby” You have better danger to take care of. What’s to endure such pleasure mercilessly so vigorously she steppe... forward & he watered me down.She was smoking on fire feeling like the City girl in her Citroen.Let’s get some French coffee the Italians named Carretti’s. I know what you are going through you need to restart your Bugatti engine.He was the “Re’my” of French kisses he had the words merciful with his ladies. They were walking on the street it was named. Just one or two seconds is all it took to change my life forever.My wife is what some might call pleasingly plump. At five feet, one hundred and twenty-five pounds (a good bit of it stuffed into her 34C bra) she is a voluptuous bombshell. Add long black hair that hangs down to her ass and legs that just cry out "fuck me" when she wears heels and you have a walking wet dream. She's always hot, ready and willing to fuck and it is usually all I can do to keep up with her.I work for a large. ’ I closed the door and went back to the kitchen. A minute later I heard her door open and she went into the bathroom. A few minutes later she entered the kitchen. She had brushed her hair that had regained some gloss from the shampoo. She was wearing a T-shirt with Daffy Duck on the front. The shirt was short exposing two inches of her flat stomach. I could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra. She had jogging shorts on and was barefoot. She smiled shyly at me and said, ‘I really want to thank you…’. I push the hard steel against her clit and she whimpers quietly. I release the hold I have on her throat and take a step back, my hands leaving her completely and I watch. The tension drains out of her body and her lips begin to pout, a whispered plea from her soft lips “please, please” I kneel between her legs and demand “Please what?” I massage the inside of her thighs. I feel her soft skin under my fingertips, and sense her restlessness as I slow the pace. “Please what?” I ask again. “Please.