“Sure. Nothing mysterious about them, the same things you’ll find in any hardware store, just smaller,” he said. “And what do you do, ahhh, So...ia?” She looked up. “Almost right. Sandra.” “Sandra it is. Imprinted on my brain. What do you do, Sandra?” She held a wrench, about the length of her middle finger, in her hand. While small, it was surprisingly heavy, not toy-like she expected. “What do I do? I ask myself that sometimes. What do you think I do?” she asked. “You like trick questions, I. It’s always both fun and exciting to see men react this way to my wife.She ordered a red wine and sat looking at the lake while taking a sip every so often. Eventually, she turned on her barstool and nonchalantly looked around. I knew she was checking out the men, and several of them were obviously checking her out too. After a few minutes, she slid off her bar stool, asked the bartender to watch her drink and then walked toward the restrooms.A few seconds later, my phone rang. When I answered. " Katie's face went from embarrassment to delight instantly. I wondered if her heart was beating as hard as mine.We hurried into the apartment, fighting through what was now a snowstorm. Once we were inside the warm lodging, we slipped out of our jackets and shoes before I led Katie to the bedroom. If I'd had something alcoholic for her to drink, I would have offered, but she didn't need it anyway.As Katie sat down on my bed, I was across the hall in the bathroom psyching myself up to nail my. I wanted all of it. I urged her knees up and she lifted them, sliding her feet across the lush carpet below us, and exposed to me a banquet that yearned to be eaten. Inch by delectable inch I cleansed her flesh of our sex, ignoring for a short time the motherload contained within her.Ginny’s breath caught as I licked our juices from her anus. I felt her jump and watched as she contracted with my touch. Ever so deliberately, I removed all our deliciousness as I moved higher. Her lips.