It takes some getting used to. What’s the point? I likefucking in bed. That’s what a bed is made for. I heard Annette’s voice from the hall.“W...uld you like the Champagne in the bath, Mrs. Evans?”“Yes, come in, put it on the chair. Pour the drink.” The door opened and Anette walked in.She was stacked, man. Heavy top, curvy bottom, all wrapped in this bizarre servant outfit,with this stupid apron and everything. She was pretty. I liked the cleavage. It didn’t botherher that her guest was fucking. It was in the middle of the second night that the Count continued his recital of the result of the intrigue with his mother. His sister-c***d, for she was both, was born in his first year's exile. Beyond his mother's description of her, that she was growing up a beautiful girl, the image of her father, meaning her son, the Count, he had no other intelligence of her. She had just turned eleven when her mother died; for two years after that sad event she kept house for her father.He then dying,. I massage and knead some more oil into it.You are turning me on, even though I am fully dressed.My cock is getting hard.I help you turn over so you are lying on your back.Your head is supported so you can watch my oily fingers teasing your naked body.I start oiling the lower part of you legs.Then your thighs, with your legs spread wide open.Especially the inside of your thighs, almost up to your vagina.Then I move to your upper torso.I oil all over your upper torso ignoring your nipples.I lick. It is just about to flow out of me."Justin reached back put a hand over his anus and it came up all slimy."See?"I looked at his little soft hand and fingers covered in male seed.I licked it. Then I started eating his fingers like crazy not wanting to waste anything.Before either of us could think, I got up and rolled over between Justin's buns. I spread his ass cheeks aside and dove right in.Justin thrust his hips up to meet my face. I smelled his asshole. It had the aroma of delightfully light.