She had thanked him and told him she would be happy to have him use her again and that her husband loved her to fuck guys and tell him all about it.i ...aw him and waved him over i could see he was worried i shook his hand said thank you and gave him a tip i said you know our chalet number we are a bi couple looking for fun. we went to bed where i sucked her cunt and fucked for hours. the next morning we could tell word had got round we got lots of smiles and winks. all day there were comments. ‘Master Roland,’ she called into the cellar, raising her voice to be heard over the rolling casks. ‘Hello?!’ A round, ruddy face popped around the corridor, ‘What now?’ he bellowed. ‘Ah, Miss Elsabeth, to what do I owe this pleasure.’ The portly brewer bowed low, his bald head shining with sweat. ‘Oh Roland, always gallant,’ she giggled. ‘Father says to fetch five extra casks up to the hall, we have more households coming to drink all your mead.’ ‘Zounds! Lucky we are coming to the harvest so. The single one thing that bothered me the most was the trigger finger aspect of racial relations that was as dangerous as any minefield the fucking French were always planting in the cause of peace.Peace was one hell of a nice word.Of course, the opposite of Peace was War and in this case, war was the sort of war that probably meant the extinction of the human species from the face of the earth. I remembered being a “Peacekeeper” a long time ago with my armor-plated rounds all sealed up inside. In my post orgasmic fog, I lose track of where I am, how much time has passed. It’s like a dream. A very strange, erotic dream. I feel like a doll, or perhaps a puppet as they lay me down on a quilt covered mattress and arrange my limbs, Iris carefully brushing my hair, her strokes gentle, while Christian massages my limbs. It feels amazing. I feel loved. It seems so natural when I feel his fingers stroking my clean shaved mound, finger tips teasing along the folds of my pussy, toying with the.