Ah yes, that is right, her name escaped me for moment, but now I remember it. Her name is Gretchen! You know the one! Well, she overheard Monsieur le ...omte speaking with the Comtessa and Gretchen swears on her life that they are here in the house. They are to perform tonight for the Comte, the Comtessa and their guests after supper." Another pause, as a female voice cackled an incoherent question. "No, I do not know where. Somewhere in the bloody house, I suppose. How should I know? The Comte. I mean, sexually."Truthfully, I was feeling strangely (or maybe not so strangely) excited hearing David saying these things.He went on: "And you've got experience with this sort of thing---I mean, meeting other married women's needs, and I think you could do just that with Carol. So, if she would be inclined to meet you, would you be interested in that as well? And," he added quickly, "if neither of you want to take it any further, that's fine. But I do think Carol would greatly benefit from. You reach to wipe his tear away with her fingertip and taste the salt of his tears; sensing his passion for you. When he kisses your lips you return his kiss hungrily; pushing your body forwards and it is his for the take. He reaches to the wine cooler and takes an ice cube in his mouth and starts to kiss the back of your neck, moving down, fondling your bum. You feel that with every touch of his you are being brought a step closer to yet another orgasm.When he senses this, he pauses briefly. Previously, the first weekend I spent with him at Uncle Billy and Aunt Jean's, I'd given him a handjob, his first contact with a female since his release. Never had I seen a man so grateful for cumming into my hand. When he insisted on sitting with me in the backseat on our ride to the family reunion, I knew he was wanting some more attention. He'd mentioned he'd hooked up with a lady the previous weekend but also made a sly comment about how inferior it was to other recent experiences he'd.