I was using my tongue like a small dick poking in and around her choot, she was shaved and chikni as marble. My assault on her pussy was yielding more...and more juice from her pussy along with muffed moans coming out of her stuffed mouth. After the onslaught of the pussy I turned attention to her ass, which was soft as a feather pillow. I started pressing it with my all might and poking my tongue on her asshole. She jumped and said my husband never touched me their and it feels great. I kept. Every so oftenhe would stop and hold still for several minutes, giving me a chance to stretchout a little bit and get used to him. He kept this up until the head ofhis cock touched my hymen. He then pulled out slightly and started tomove in and out, slowly. On each in stroke the head of his cock wouldtouch my hymen but not break it, just stretching it slightly with each stroke. I looked up at his face. His hair wassaturated with sweat; it was running down his face in rivulets. He. I was dressed as a gypsy, and the funny thing was, I felt like one. Damn I looked good.The next morning I got dressed. It all fit very well, and I knew I looked great in it. My olive coloured skin was probably one of the reasons I was picked for this job. Then I looked at my hair, I usually wore it just as it was, long and curly. I had to do something with it, but what?I thought I would put it up using the silver comb I had found in the box, letting some tendrils escape and flow down onto my. That was only after they had finished a heated debate about what she should wear. Her mother thought she had won by convincing Lauren to wear a smart, pale yellow dress, rather than jeans and a T-Shirt. Lauren had objected until the threat of reduced cinema money, and had then given way. Lauren thought too that the dress was probably the better bet, especially as she thought she had reasonable legs and had some shoes with a heel that would show off their shape. But to agree publicly would have.