" Suit yourself--it's obviously an old pronouncement, then. I'll get you something more recent."Again, an object appeared at the entrance to the littl... blue house. This time it was a brown wooden box, half again the dimensions of an ordinary shoebox. Marigold, still stooping, reached out to retrieve the container, opening it near the unravelled scroll. Inside was what appeared to be a burnt steak."So what's this?" It's Nat King Cole's right lung," answered the kennel, a smug arrogance now. There's a pattern to his movements. This time however, his pattern had changed. Instead of stroking my back in the usual manner, his fingers drifted to my sides. He traced down the curve of my waist and over my hips, before tickling back up, gently his fingers skimmed across the side of my breasts. This caused a soft giggle to escape my lips. “That’s funny; I thought I asked for a back tickle.” “Why do you want me to stop?” He questioned. “No.” My body responded to his touch, swaying softly, as. When Theresa headed off to bed Gracie and I began kissing and pretty soon we were sucking each others snatches and fucking up a storm. I was pounding her hard like she loves it with the 12 inch strap on when I looked up and noticed we had a spy. Theresa was watching from the dark hallway. Her hands on her generous tits, pinching and pulling the nipples through the borrowed tee we gave her. I shrugged a little and kept fucking my girl. Turning her over and making her moan and scream. We sucked. Barbara offered a few more comments. "I think it serves her right. She's always thought she was above all the rest of us. Now it looks like she can't keep her own husband at home."Teresa had heard enough. Seething with anger by the insulting observations she had overheard, Teresa quietly left the locker room. Surprisingly she did not confront Barbara about her comments. She was saving her wrath for a particular club owner and wayward husband.As she drove, Teresa was thinking, "It's one thing.