Is beech usne apne pant or shirt bhi utatr di or vo sorf apne underwear me the. Vo mere picche aa kar chipak gya or piche se hi meri puri back or neck...par kiss karne lga or piche se usne apne hath mere chuche par rakh liye or unhe badi softly apne hataliyo se crush karne lga.Muge bhi kafi bda maaza aa rha tha. Fir usne piche se mere bra ka hook khol diya or use utar diya. Muge sharam aa rahi thi or m apne hatho se apne chcuho ko chupane lagi.Fir usne muge apni tarf ghumaya or mere chuche se. "Yes, I'm just doing them now. Yes I'll get them on the line real quick."There was a pause, Miss Grace was imparting some wisdom I assumed."I'll tell the boy. Yes, goodbye Mistress. Love you too."My god, "love you," how sick was this, I thought.The poor creature returned to the kitchen, painted face flushed eitherwith the exertion of running to the phone, or sheer utter embarrassment,or probably both."Mistress says," he began in those cloying girlish tones, then correctedhimself, and began to. Meanwhile, my own cock thrilled to the delightful tightness and heat of Becky’s butt as I probed it furiously. Her pussy smelled strongly of her excitement and her thighs glistened with the fluids that poured down from her cunt. I had never fucked my boss before, so this was quite the change for me, but I got the impression that our relationship was never going to be the usual one of employer and employee anyway.After several more minutes of this ruthless penetration, I came in Becky’s ass and. It wasn't as easy as it sounds; the home kept computerized records, sort of, but the updates were a little sporadic and generally anywhere from a day to as much as a week out of date; I guessed timeliness of record-keeping was a secondary thing in the anterooms to death that most nursing homes are.So it was five days late when Spook gave me the news.Jack, the female on whom you have asked me to maintain surveillance, the mother of Lisa, the records I have been watching now say that she died on—.