Gottlieb, I’ve never slept with a married man, but if your missus ever gives you a hall pass, you know where to look to cash it, right? You ever tak... the backdoor? I love it that way!” Jessica told the doctor ... and I got the strange feeling that it wasn’t just a risque joke.“Tempting, not gonna lie, but in this whole... ‘Me, Too,’ world, not to mention the divorce courts and my love for Naomi, yeah, not gonna happen. I’m just too conventional for that kind of thing, I fear. But you kids have. Spread thighs resting on splayed thighs, tiny tight arseholes and juicy pussies beckoning like binary stars, centred on exposed girly flesh. Beautiful openings; poised; willing, wanting and waiting for cock. Stacked up girls already perfectly wet like hot steaming pancakes with dribbly sticky syrup.Damien was caught in a male multi-browser moment, but his tongue knew what to do; frickin lick and explore and examine everything hard and fast; his tongue lapping like a thirsty dog at female. He collected images. Images of women of course, all sorts of images – paintings, photographs, books, statuettes – you name it. When I first met him I didn’t know anything about that of course, like most of my clients he heard about me through a friend or business associate and after a brief chat on the phone we arranged to meet for dinner at one of my preferred hotels. We ate, talked, went up to the room he’d booked and had sex – perfectly straightforward sex, nothing strange or kinky. He was. Ryan Moore was an older man, obviously, since he was leading a hospital, who appeared to be in good shape despite showing quite a few gray hairs. He was thin but well toned, with hard definite angular lines to his face which gave him a sort of accessibility, instead of putting one off. I think his honest smile helped him pull his sharp features off, as it and his in depth glance made you regard him positively.“This must be your sister, Becky?” he continued, “I hear she’s involved in some kind.