You look at me with a hunger I've never seen before. You bark at me to get in the back. I move to the back and lay down. It's a good thing that the...van has plenty of room in the back. You mount your soaking cunt on my face, and I attack you with my mouth. I am licking your wetness and your lips. I suck each of your lips, and then head for your clit. I can't see exactly what you're doing, but I can imagine that your licking your lips before you begin to lick my cock like it's the most. This time was different. This time the taste of Tasha’s mouth and tongue sweetened the enjoyment. I scooped her up in my arms and carried her to my king size bed. I had bought a new one more to my liking after her mom died so there were so feelings of betrayal taking a new woman to my bed; in fact Tasha was the first. I set her down carefully at the foot of my bed. First I pulled her shirt off over her head. Her natural scent along with her sweet blossom perfume swirled around my head. I began. Naturally there was an unwritten law in school that under no circumstances would anybody accidentally rub or bump up against her in the hallway. Last year a kid named George stumbled against her and as the two of them fell to the floor his hand "accidentally" touched her thigh. George bragged to the entire school that he actually had his hand on Karen Whitley's leg, above her knee. My blood pressure went sky high just thinking about it. I can tell you, about 250 high school boys wish it had. She hated fish.However, as much as she hated fish, she loved her husband. She'd entertained passing thoughts of illicit summer affairs and hot, passionate sexual encounters while her husband blissfully floated his raft down the Russian River. She'd dreamed of chasing her own form of "spawning red." She sighed. It would never happen. Just about the time she had screwed up the courage to approach that deeply-tanned construction worker or that unbelievably sexy road crewman, fishing season was.