I have so many questions.”“Mom, come over here and sit down.” I walked with mom to the couch and we sat down. “Did you enjoy having sex with B...ll?”“Yes, I think so. He is quite pleasant to look at.” Mom leaned toward me and, almost whispering, said, “And so very young.”“Did you have an orgasm?”“I don’t know. I was very busy taking notes and trying to get Bill to answer my questions. He didn’t keep his penis in me for very long.”I really did not need to hear that last part. But I pressed on,. One day my wife (who at the time was my girlfriend of about a month) discovered an online profile of mine that had a photo of a girl being tickled on her feet while locked in stocks and asked me what it was about. I had already licked, sucked, and tickled her hot toes and soles some but not at the level I really wanted to. I reluctantly told her that I had a foot / tickle fetish but it was nothing weird. She then told me that she always wanted to date a foot fetish guy, and told me when she was. This smelt wonderful right to the back of my throat. I looked out from my book and down slightly. There was a very beautiful face looking back at me. She was stunning, aged fortyish, dark brown hair with eyes you could dive right into. My throat went dry, but shyness and British reserve took over and I said nothing. The next stop arrived and the surge pushed in. The lady had turned around to face the onslaught and was pushed tight, arse against my crotch. Calm down, I thought, you have. I again held on, but it was proving impossible I just couldn’t stop myself. Al came with an almighty grunt emptying his balls inside me.Sam and two others came over and untied the three of us. A break was needed, and we had a quick slurp of wine and mingled with the audience.Now the tables were replaced by three leather armchairs. We were asked to d**** ourselves over an arm each. Of course, we willingly did.Once in position Sam applied a liberal amount of lube to each of our arses. Bent over.