When I touched her, she was slightly damp. My fingers moved on her, following old habits. She let down more wetness and moved her feet apart to give m... better access to her center. “You can put your fingers in me if you want,” she said in a low voice. I slid two fingers into her slick tunnel and pumped slowly, searching the front wall of her vagina for the rough, raised area that was her G spot. Maybe, if I found it and it felt really good to her, just maybe I’d get more than a handjob. Roach. One last shower, and then it was time to get dressed, so I would be home before my husband, and I would not arouse any suspicions. It was almost as much fun dressing each other as it had been undressing. One last chance for fingers to feel every part of each other as the clothes once more covered our nakedness. The whole drive home, I kept smiling, telling myself over and over again how lucky I was to have met Dave. Back home, I was subjected to endless harangues from my husband , about the. {The disarray: Junk was piled everywhere and large milk cans were loaded with rotting milk left in the sun to create bacteria for hog feed. The son explained how hogs thrived on bacteria and what I saw was fly larvae thriving, moving about in unison.}The east end of the building I had earlier noticed was filled with equipment that looked like a bottling plant but it seemed like the operation had stopped mid-finished and perhaps all the workers had just walked off and left things as they were.. .. and I could even see a lot more inside. I hesitated, and then went for it. I started slurping/licking/sucking up the cum on the outside of her pussy/legs/ass first, trying to get every drop before I moved on to her pussy-- but after a moment I realized that I was just letting the cum spend more time inside her, so I dove in and started sucking and swallowing and licking up every drop I could find. But it wasn't really like finding drops-- it was like drowning in a puddle. She had so much cum.