Her eyes opened wide and she raised her head, staring straight ahead at the wall of her bedroom as she felt Peter's finger slip right down into the li...tle hole, burrowing slowly forward into her rectum in spite of all her attempts to clench her buttocks and contract her anus in resistance. It sank inward to the first knuckle, then continued the lewd intrusion until it was buried all the way up in her helpless rectal flesh.As a soft moan of pain rose to the older woman's lips, Peter flicked his. .. that sounds fine. Thank you for inviting me,” he said, stumbling awkwardly over his words.“Would you like a glass of wine before I serve dinner?” she asked. “I don’t want to rush you.”“Oh ... wine ... sure ... thanks.”“Red or white.”“Uhhm ... red, I guess. Otherwise, it doesn’t matter.” Again, he was feeling awkward around his hostess. She had him off balance and he was scrambling mentally to catch up.She smiled at him, realizing he was not at all sophisticated or suave. That was good. She. Despite my predicament, I couldn't help getting a hard on watching those two studs going at it.That's when I noticed someone walking into the shower room. He was about 6'3", his skin was as black as night and had a slight glistening quality to it. He had a smooth, bald head with hazel eyes. He was muscular, like a football player and completely naked. His cock was even more massive than Butch's oversized tool. I had a feeling that this was my surprise. "Adrian my man, what's up?" Butch. Sometimes I swear I can see Gypsy standing in the doorway, wearing a shear nightgown, her body swaying to one of her favorite songs as she waits for me. There are times I sit there in that driveway, caught in that dimension between reality and what could have been, staring through blurry eyes at the back door. I imagine 'what if' for a few moments before backing out and returning home. After each trip, I give that Vette I affectionately call 'Gypsy', a good wash and dry, then put her back in.