She really thought it was the perfect skirt otherwise. When she asked the saleswoman if she had anything in her size that wasn't broken, the saleswoma... convinced her that she could fold the skirt over in the back, and use bobby pins to keep it in place. If you folded enough of the material over the zipper, both problems would be solved: the skirt would fit, and the open zipper, which otherwise would expose almost her entire ass, would be covered. As we went on line with the skirt, she seemed to. We entered the booth and closed the door. Once the door was closed his hands were all over me, squeezing my breasts through my shirt, squeezing the cheeks of my ass… He removed my clothes and pushed me down on the bench, then kneeled on the floor in front of me. Handing me some quarters he told me to put them in the slot so the movie would start. On the screen there was a couple in a kitchen, she was lying on the table and the guy was holding her ankles in the air while he fucked her. The. I turned and eyed the dilapidated piece of plastic that passed for a palm tree. Mickey hadn't dusted the damned thing — probably since the day he put it there. I turned back to my Makers Mark on the rocks and forgot about it. Mickey's housekeeping abilities were not my concern.At the moment my concern was my wife of four and a half years, Nicole -- or rather my soon to be ex-wife.I won't bore you with all the bullshit about how we met in college, fucked like rabbits, married soon after. She finished up the back of my legs and I flipped over on my back. “I’ll do your front for you too.” She smiled.“Sounds good to me.”After replenishing the oil on her hands, she went to work on my flat tummy. Emily’s hands drifted Northward, and easily brushed aside my top that held on by my neck strap. My massive tits gleamed with oil as Emily gently kneaded them. My nipples hardened from the friction. “Mmm, you’re getting me wet baby.” I cooed.“Getting? I’m fucking soaked ” She replied.“Oh ya?.