The grocery bag fell to thefloor. There in my living room was my husband completely nakedon all fours with a gorgeous raven-haired woman sittingastrid... him like she was riding a horse backwards. Myhusband’s ass was facing me and it was as red as a stopsign! I could actually see hand prints!In a calm but commanding voice the woman said, “Greg, goover there and pick up that bag for your dear wife andtake it to the kitchen and put everything away.” As shestood up. ”“Why did I not know about this?” he demanded, but John intervened, “It was probably because you do not pay attention to what is happening in your tribe, Chief Andromo.”“Don’t play nasty with me, you ... what did you say your name was?”“High Chief John, the overchief of three tribes far to the north of here. That is who I am: a man of power, according to the shamans.”Chief Andromo looked at John with new eyes.“You have very pale skin for a man of power, High Chief. Such insipid colouring does. I stepped back, undressing, reaching for the spare pyjamas she’d handed me, feeling self-conscious of the stubble on my legs, of the flabbiness of my thighs, at how the years had pulled at me, regretting the evenings sat at my laptop catching up with work, how the sedentary life had slowly grown around me, swaddling me with the flab that I now resented, that embarrassed me.I wondered what she’d think of this, this doughy mess of age, these thighs that wobbled, this older woman who’d talked her. .."Her head disappeared. Moments later, I felt my skirt raised evenhigher, up to my waist, then soft suctioning on my clitty as slick lipsand a wet mouth descended its length. I had no idea how long it lasted,nor where my endurance came from. The cocks at either end of methundered their release in quick succession. I milked every drop fromthem with mouth and rectal muscles. When they were at last spent andlimp, I focused my attention on the last remaining member of our'party'.There is something.