” Cynthia’s eyes close, as her right hand slowly moves to the cleft of her ass. A tapered finger approaches her tight berry, and makes slight circ...es. The tight hole has become lubricated from the copious overflow of her juices from her quim to her ass. The fingertip pushes in, and I hear a gasp. The finger pushes on, slowly, slowly. I see a mixed look of pleasure and apprehension on Cynthia’s face as the digit enters all the way. “Fuck yourself with it. Slowly.” Cynthia’s finger begins to. Maybe she thought they'd be finished before I got home, well one way or another here they were, all still hard at it. I asked them If they would mind me taking some pics of my wife in action as I like to look back on her conquests (yes women put notches on the bedpost, not just men!) They didn't mind and I got some great pics of her mouth stretching around their fully engorged cocks as she greedily sucked on them one after another, sometimes while the others were busy up her cum filled cunt. It. Those were my loneliest years. Eventually the job in Boston ended and they came back. By that time my parents had bought a house. My uncle bought a house not too far from us. It wasn't close enough to walk to or ride my bike to, but it was close enough to go over there every Friday night. My uncle and dad would watch the Friday Night Fights. My mom and aunt would sit in the kitchen and talk. Dee and I would be on the back porch during the summer months or in her bedroom, door open of. "You know that's wrong." Damned Catholic teaching. He'd thought the same once, that oral (not to mention anal) sex was a sin. But in his years of service, he'd done both, too many times to recall. His jaw ached in church on Sundays, from the head he gave during their Saturday night parties, and his arse still burned from their 'farewell fuck'. He rolled over sideways, his torso rippling like silk over a grill, which was close to the truth since his hard body was now burning with a sheen of.