With that the door opened. Emma, standing behind the door, and wearing a blue half-bra that supported her breasts without covering them, a blue garter...belt, blue stockings and blue spiked heels, greeted them. "C'mon in," she said. "I was beginning to wonder." Traffic," Danny said. "Somebody spilled a load of corn out on I-39. Anyone else coming up the freeway will be late." Well, make yourself at home," Emma said. She was a tall woman in her late 30's, with brown hair, a long face with a dimple. He then felt around inside her ass for a while before slowly withdrawing his finger and again discarding the glove, (please don't ask me what I did with that glove) leaving her lying there breathless. My father seemed quite concerned and asked if she was alright. She told him that she was fine, just a little nervous and that she would be OK. By this time she had rolled over onto her back, still with her legs wide apart and those glorious round tits with their pink, puffy nipples still pointing. It was obvious why, no matter what morality bullshit I could concoct to justify the reason. The answer was called Abigail May.She also deserved her pound of flesh to help heal those mental wounds just like any other limping bunny, and while I didn’t know the first thing about her assailant, I also wouldn’t mind bumping into him in an empty parking lot. ‘Let me give your case a personal combing,’ I said with eager pragmatism, barely concealing my newfound devotion. ‘There might be factors that. I felt a small pang of pride for pleasing her. My submissive fantasies started to take over. I was enjoying this torment, and that scared me. “You’re lucky, I only have to pee.” With that, she turned around and slowly sat on my face. I watched her perfectly round ass engulf my head. Her pussy sealed itself on my lips. I could smell her deep scent, taste it. Light body odor mixed with perfumed soap. Her pubes brushed against my face, tickling around my mouth and nose. Her ass cheeks were soft.
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