Looking higher I see the start of two slightly plump thighs and the hem of a white dress. Just a little higher is a damp patch where her pussy is hidi...g. Her hands are on her well-proportioned waist. Looking up I’m faced with a great view under her ‘outrageously large’ boobs. With her arms down she has them tamed into remaining clothed. Focusing past her boobs, which I find difficult, is the beautiful blonde from the dance floor. “You OK,” she asks. Rubbing my head I nod. She bends down; her. She slowly pulled her mouth off of me and looked up and I saw my jism hanging on her chin and I pulled her to her feet. That was about the best blow job I ever had and I grabbed her tits and squeezed them and then spun her around and pushed her halfway up on the hood of her car and spread her legs. I grabbed my nightstick and twirled it in her juices and then put the end just inside her pussy lips and she moaned loud. I pushed it in a couple of inches and her tight pussy fought to adjust to. She’s not a fan of cooking, and leaves that all to him. I’m atheist, but I would leave him alone and try to keep the house quiet when he was praying. She cares nothing for that, and always interrupts him. When we would fight, I always tried to make things right, even if part of that was asking him to apologize. When they fight, she won’t speak to him until he apologizes to her. It hurts so much thinking of all the work I put into making him happy and now seeing what he actually wanted. What. She had her eyes closed, giving me a few seconds to admire the perfection that she was. Her beautiful round face, her big eyes, her straight hair, the black t-shirt that accentuated her large, firm breasts & her tiny little denim skirt. “Tell me how much of a privilege it was, serving as my slave for one day.” “Jeanette, my Goddess. You threw me in your toilet, where my soul belongs. You let me smell your asshole.” “Correct!” she said, pointing to the corner of the room behind me. “Get over.