Housesitting for Ms Gleckner Part 3
- 4 years ago
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HOUSE SITTING: Part One free porn video
HOUSE SITTING
Part One
Sometimes Being Naughty Pays Unexpected Dividends
When the pandemic crippled our economy earlier this year, I was one of the first out of a job. It was good paying, so my lifestyle was going to have to change. I’m used to buying designer clothes and fine jewelry. This was making me depressed. But luckily, my longtime girlfriend, Laura, was spending a lot of time at her husband’s estate and she didn’t want her own house being neglected so she ask me if I could house sit. I told her I would love to and she compensated me rather generously. This was great! Of course, it wasn’t as much as my employment wages, but now I felt back on my feet again and happy.
I loved her house. It was big and spacious, and the interiors stayed cool as outdoor temperatures rose into the 90s in the New Mexico summer. I easily settled into a routine. I would get up early, water her plants outside, then come in and use her french press for coffee with heavy cream, oh, decadent. In the afternoon I would crunch on her bowls of nuts: walnuts, pecans, pine nuts. In the evenings I would watch tv spooning Haagen-Dazs ice cream into my mouth.
Sometimes I would remove one of the many wines on the wine racks and open it, drinking from the bottle as I watched tv. It usually got me tipsy and feeling drowsy. I would stumble to her bedroom in my tee-shirt and panties and flop on her bed. Then before succumbing to sleep I would begin humping my hand, and in no time, I would slip it inside my panties and bury my face in her pillow, smelling her scent. That always drove me over the top and moaning into her pillow I would cum…and pass out for the night.
So that was my typical day, and I would stay at her house from Monday thru Saturday, and went home Sunday morning when she would return in the afternoon. And then I would return again on Monday.
One Sunday evening as I checked my laptop before going to bed I noticed she had sent me an email. That was strange. We usually communicate via text or phone. Curious I opened it up and there was a short message: I would like to speak with you on Monday when you come over to house sit.
There was also an attachment. Hmmm, my heart started to beat faster, but I downloaded the video and began to play it. And what I saw was myself at her house doing some naughty things.
Needless to say I couldn’t sleep that night. I kept waking up in cold sweats wondering what will come of this. I can understand losing the house sitting job, but I might lose a dear, close friend. Around 3 am I got up taking some sleeping pills and cried myself to sleep.
My alarm buzzed me awake at 7:30 am and I shot out of bed like I was being attacked. Calm down, Sarah. Wow, gotta get a grip of myself. As I pulled my tee-shirt up over my head I noticed how damp it was from my body sweat. And my body smell definitely was telling me I needed that shower. Walking towards the bathroom I stripped out of my sky blue panties with black stripes and lace trimming. I do luv my lace. Turned the water on real hot and got under the shower head for like 2 minutes before I began scrubbing myself clean with soap. I must confess, I usually masturbate taking a shower, but the dread I was feeling of going over to Laura’s house was overwhelming and I just did the basics…soap u and clean body, no fun stuff, ho hum.
Drying myself off, I contemplated what to wear. Should I go ultra conservative as if I’m going to some executive board meeting, or keep it casual. I selected clothes somewhere between those choosing denim shorts, very short, and a black tank top. Underneath I went with my matching floral lace two-tone pink cheeky bottoms and racerback bralette to cover my small but nice breasts. For some reason I was feeling frisky (maybe to balance the anxiety) and the combo of the tank top and bralette exposed the pink triangle material from the backside below the shoulder blades. Yes, it was giving me a confident feeling as I looked myself over in the mirror. Well, off to Laura’s house…
I parked my tornado red VW Golf GTI on the street and as I walked up the driveway I noticed an unfamiliar car. It was a convertible which gave me an easy view of the interior. Hmmm, looked very sleek, sporty, and luxury, very luxury. It reminded me of a super spy vehicle James Bond would drive, very British indeed. I wish I knew my cars. Probably an Austin Powers, I think. I rang the door bell and as I was adjusting my tank top thinking my boobs were exposed even though they were fully covered, the door opened and…there was…Art?!? Well, that would explain the car, but why would Laura’s husband be here?
Ever gracious, Art smiling at me said, “Hi Sarah.”
For a moment I thought I was going to faint. Art quickly reached out and took hold of my wrists pulling me inside out of the heat.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Quit all right. It’s hot outside. Sometimes the heat gets to me as well. I have some Pink Riesling I put in the fridge last night. Never too early for wine I say.”
I followed Art into the kitchen and sat at their big wooden table. Ummm, I could hear smooth jazz playing in the background. Such a relaxing, comforting sound. As he came back with two full glasses of wine, I couldn’t help but notice he was wearing sandals, plaid bermuda shorts, and a navy blue dry-fit athletic shirt that stretched across his broad muscular chest. Sitting down across from me, he slid my glass over to me and I took it, briefly touching his hands.
After taking a rather large sip and already feeling it go to my head I blurted out, “Where’s Laura?”
“Oh, we stayed up rather late last night, if you know what I mean, and she was just getting in the shower when you rang the door bell.”
“Oh, did I interrupt anything?” I asked.
“Kind of yes and no. Don’t worry, we can always resume what we were doing at a later time. She is my wife, you know, ha, ha.”
Then there was that awkward silence for about 30 seconds while I continued to rapidly sip my Riesling and glanced around the kitchen before Art resumed our small talk.
“Do you like house sitting?”
“Oh, yes.”
“And you’re very close to Laura, I mean, best of friends, right?
“Yes, yes, we are...”
“I wouldn’t want to do anything to lose that friendship. I don’t think you would either…What I’m trying to say about that email she sent you…don’t worry about it…I kind of found it…interesting…or rather exhilarating.”
“You watched it!??!!”
Art cleared his throat, “It was my camera I set up in her bedroom. She would spend a lot of time here, away from me and my estate and we felt if I put a camera in her bedroom it may help us remain close. And she would entertain me with her own private shows, if you know what I mean heh, heh.”
At this point I’m pretty sure my face was turning redder than the Pink Riesling that I still haven’t stopped sipping. “Umm…” I giggled. “Ahh, Art what did you find…exhilarating?”
Now it was time for Art to stammer a little, “Hah, well, you know, what you were doing. Look, you have a beautiful body and anyone, male or female, would enjoy watching you. Did you feel guilty doing what you did with Laura’s underwear?”
So, what I dreaded was finally broached. I gulped that last of the wine set the glass down and looking straight into Art’s eyes said, “Yes.” It came out as a soft whisper and I immediately looked away. And after a short beat, for some reason I said, “I should be spanked.”
In a rather casual tone, somewhat surreal even, Art responded, “Well, you’re right, you should be punished. I believe Laura will have a word with you later, but you’re right, maybe I should handle the more physical stuff.”
Without any instructions, I stood up at the table and leaned over it grabbing the far edge with my hands.
“That’s a good girl,” Art said as he got up and walked around the table to get behind me.
Then he commented on my racerback bralette, “Nice pink color you’re wearing. Are your panties a matching set?”
“Yes,” I continued to whisper.
I felt his strong, but smooth hands move down my back, feeling my spine through my black tank top. He pushed it up enough to see my waistline.
“These will have to come off for a proper spanking,” he said referring to my short denim shorts.
Again I whispered, “Yes…”
He expertly slid his hands underneath my stomach feeling my bellybutton and unbuttoned my shorts and tugged the zipper down all in one motion. Hmmm, he’s definitely adept at this kind of thing. I giggled…the wine taking effect.
“You find this funny…” he softly said, never raising his voice, never scolding, always comforting. God, I feel like I was in a dream, a wet one for sure as my womanhood was beginning to stir.
He eased my shorts down to my ankles and I stepped out of them.
“Ahh, your panties do match. I believe pink is good on you. What style do you girls call these?”
“Cheeky,” I giggled.
“Yes, they do expose those nice ass cheeks of yours. It seems you were planning for this, you naughty girl.”
And then, slap! slap! slap! Ohhh, when was he gonna stop?
After what seemed like over 5 minutes, but my head was spinning from the wine so that probably wasn’t accurate, he stopped slapping. I then felt his fingers tracing my now tender and slightly sore ass cheeks. It sent shivers up my body and I could feel goosebumps all over. He then pulled down just the backside of my pink lace undies exposing my asshole. It was then I thought my mind was really playing tricks on me as I felt what I thought was his wet tongue on my anus.
“Art?” I faintly whispered. “Art??” No answer, only the unmistakable pressure of his tongue. Did he know how sensitive that portion of my body was? Uhhhh, the stimulation was too much. I quickly slipped a hand down the front of my panties and began rubbing my clit. It seemed hours ago since we sat down at the kitchen table to drink some wine, but my pussy was still wet, and getting wetter. My fingers were covered in my juices and I wanted to taste myself. As I moved my hand up toward my face, Art grabbed my wrist.
“I believe that is for me,” he said, and he pulled my hand back and licked my fingers clean. “Just as I thought, sweeter than wine,” he said in his deep soothing voice.
I giggled and he released my hand.
“I want to see you cum,” he said. Then he finished pulling down my cute panties over my tennis shoes and placed them on the table. Again without instructing me, I spread my legs further apart and standing on the tips of my tennis shoes I raised my butt higher in the air. Still with one hand holding the edge of the table I placed the other one back on my smooth mound and began to masturbate as Laura’s husband watched.
With all the previous activities, our discussion, the wine, his anal licking, my clit rubbing, I was nearing an orgasm rather quickly. I then found myself inserting two fingers in my pussy! Wow, I usually only put one inside, what was going through my head? And then the unmistakable sound of a wet pussy being finger banged. I picked up a fast rhythm, timing it to the smooth jazz riff of a saxophone and began moaning. I instantly thought of Laura still in her bedroom probably hearing my sounds of passion but the hard wooden kitchen table didn’t offer any means of stifling it. Then I remembered my panties and using my free hand, stuffed them into my mouth. I heard Art gasp as if he busted a nut. And that sound, for some reason, put me over the edge as I climaxed on their kitchen table.
Art was so sensitive and knew I had no strength left to remain half standing leaning on the table, so he came closer gently removing the panties from my mouth. I then felt his strong arms around my slim torso and he easily lifted my petite body into his arms and carried me over to their sofa. He laid me on my side as I regained my breath. The cool leather along with their ac that they always had lowered was waking me up out of my stupor. In no time I sat up on the couch and then realized he had at some point removed his bermuda shorts. That sly devil. Plus he was wearing silky black jockey boxers with red chili peppers. And they were low rise, how sexy! But the biggest surprise was his hardon! Oh my god, it was turning me on.
When he saw me eyeing his crotch he started to move away, but I unexpectedly reached out with both hands and grabbed his ass bringing him closer to me, to my face that was inches from his surging member.
“Wait, I thought you were…” Art was stuttering.
“Shhh,” I said. “Don’t ruin the moment.”
And in another surreal moment of time, I pulled (actually yanked) down his low rise jockey briefs and watched his now fully erect penis spring to life. Wow, not something I see often, if at all ha, ha. He too was wet, or rather his pre cum was leaking at the tip of his head. I couldn’t resist and flicked out my long tongue catching the first droplets before they hit the ground. Mmmm, like I’ve heard from my straight girlfriends, it is sweet and delicious. I teased some more out by gripping his stiff member and squeezing it, moving up to the head. When I saw some more of the precious clear fluid I spread it all down his hard shaft with my fingers.
"Oooh, it is sticky!" I giggled.
I have to give Art credit, with him standing there seeing my naked, firm, athletic body and pert tits with erect nipples he somehow kept himself in check and never exploded like I’m sure most guys would have. Such control, Art, you devil!
But I could sense he was on the verge so before that was to happen I wanted him in my mouth. Again that surreal imagery, but I saw my lips slide past his engorged head and down his shaft. I forgot to open my mouth wide (I’m not experienced at all in this type of sexual activity) and I heard him groan, as my teeth raked his sensitive member, but I quickly adjusted and took more of him down my tiny throat.
Before I felt the gag reflex, I moved my head back to expose his lower shaft. I then remembered what some of my girlfriends told me they do and placed a hand around the base of his shaft and began rhythmically bobbing my head as my long, brown wavy hair moved in unison.
I can only imagine what he was thinking now, so after another 10 minutes (I k** you not) I stopped my attempt at fellatio and sat back. I ran my hands over my body feeling all the sweat I worked up and was really feeling overwhelmed to the point of exhaustion, but I wanted him to fulfill his need, so before I collapsed I told him to cum on my body.
Needing no further instructions, I watched as Art pulled on his erect penis and within in seconds was spurting his hot white cum all over my torso and small breasts. I think I had passed out, but I swear he never made a sound. And always the gentleman I could feel him wiping me clean with his jockey underwear.
Now dear readers, I don’t know how much time elapsed when I woke up. And I immediately knew I was in Laura’s bed because I could smell her sent on the sheets. It was then I heard:
“Did you have fun with my husband?”
I was still not awake enough to answer.
“Well, now it’s my turn,” Laura said.
Sweet Jesus…is this really happening?
Part One
Sometimes Being Naughty Pays Unexpected Dividends
When the pandemic crippled our economy earlier this year, I was one of the first out of a job. It was good paying, so my lifestyle was going to have to change. I’m used to buying designer clothes and fine jewelry. This was making me depressed. But luckily, my longtime girlfriend, Laura, was spending a lot of time at her husband’s estate and she didn’t want her own house being neglected so she ask me if I could house sit. I told her I would love to and she compensated me rather generously. This was great! Of course, it wasn’t as much as my employment wages, but now I felt back on my feet again and happy.
I loved her house. It was big and spacious, and the interiors stayed cool as outdoor temperatures rose into the 90s in the New Mexico summer. I easily settled into a routine. I would get up early, water her plants outside, then come in and use her french press for coffee with heavy cream, oh, decadent. In the afternoon I would crunch on her bowls of nuts: walnuts, pecans, pine nuts. In the evenings I would watch tv spooning Haagen-Dazs ice cream into my mouth.
Sometimes I would remove one of the many wines on the wine racks and open it, drinking from the bottle as I watched tv. It usually got me tipsy and feeling drowsy. I would stumble to her bedroom in my tee-shirt and panties and flop on her bed. Then before succumbing to sleep I would begin humping my hand, and in no time, I would slip it inside my panties and bury my face in her pillow, smelling her scent. That always drove me over the top and moaning into her pillow I would cum…and pass out for the night.
So that was my typical day, and I would stay at her house from Monday thru Saturday, and went home Sunday morning when she would return in the afternoon. And then I would return again on Monday.
One Sunday evening as I checked my laptop before going to bed I noticed she had sent me an email. That was strange. We usually communicate via text or phone. Curious I opened it up and there was a short message: I would like to speak with you on Monday when you come over to house sit.
There was also an attachment. Hmmm, my heart started to beat faster, but I downloaded the video and began to play it. And what I saw was myself at her house doing some naughty things.
Needless to say I couldn’t sleep that night. I kept waking up in cold sweats wondering what will come of this. I can understand losing the house sitting job, but I might lose a dear, close friend. Around 3 am I got up taking some sleeping pills and cried myself to sleep.
My alarm buzzed me awake at 7:30 am and I shot out of bed like I was being attacked. Calm down, Sarah. Wow, gotta get a grip of myself. As I pulled my tee-shirt up over my head I noticed how damp it was from my body sweat. And my body smell definitely was telling me I needed that shower. Walking towards the bathroom I stripped out of my sky blue panties with black stripes and lace trimming. I do luv my lace. Turned the water on real hot and got under the shower head for like 2 minutes before I began scrubbing myself clean with soap. I must confess, I usually masturbate taking a shower, but the dread I was feeling of going over to Laura’s house was overwhelming and I just did the basics…soap u and clean body, no fun stuff, ho hum.
Drying myself off, I contemplated what to wear. Should I go ultra conservative as if I’m going to some executive board meeting, or keep it casual. I selected clothes somewhere between those choosing denim shorts, very short, and a black tank top. Underneath I went with my matching floral lace two-tone pink cheeky bottoms and racerback bralette to cover my small but nice breasts. For some reason I was feeling frisky (maybe to balance the anxiety) and the combo of the tank top and bralette exposed the pink triangle material from the backside below the shoulder blades. Yes, it was giving me a confident feeling as I looked myself over in the mirror. Well, off to Laura’s house…
I parked my tornado red VW Golf GTI on the street and as I walked up the driveway I noticed an unfamiliar car. It was a convertible which gave me an easy view of the interior. Hmmm, looked very sleek, sporty, and luxury, very luxury. It reminded me of a super spy vehicle James Bond would drive, very British indeed. I wish I knew my cars. Probably an Austin Powers, I think. I rang the door bell and as I was adjusting my tank top thinking my boobs were exposed even though they were fully covered, the door opened and…there was…Art?!? Well, that would explain the car, but why would Laura’s husband be here?
Ever gracious, Art smiling at me said, “Hi Sarah.”
For a moment I thought I was going to faint. Art quickly reached out and took hold of my wrists pulling me inside out of the heat.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Quit all right. It’s hot outside. Sometimes the heat gets to me as well. I have some Pink Riesling I put in the fridge last night. Never too early for wine I say.”
I followed Art into the kitchen and sat at their big wooden table. Ummm, I could hear smooth jazz playing in the background. Such a relaxing, comforting sound. As he came back with two full glasses of wine, I couldn’t help but notice he was wearing sandals, plaid bermuda shorts, and a navy blue dry-fit athletic shirt that stretched across his broad muscular chest. Sitting down across from me, he slid my glass over to me and I took it, briefly touching his hands.
After taking a rather large sip and already feeling it go to my head I blurted out, “Where’s Laura?”
“Oh, we stayed up rather late last night, if you know what I mean, and she was just getting in the shower when you rang the door bell.”
“Oh, did I interrupt anything?” I asked.
“Kind of yes and no. Don’t worry, we can always resume what we were doing at a later time. She is my wife, you know, ha, ha.”
Then there was that awkward silence for about 30 seconds while I continued to rapidly sip my Riesling and glanced around the kitchen before Art resumed our small talk.
“Do you like house sitting?”
“Oh, yes.”
“And you’re very close to Laura, I mean, best of friends, right?
“Yes, yes, we are...”
“I wouldn’t want to do anything to lose that friendship. I don’t think you would either…What I’m trying to say about that email she sent you…don’t worry about it…I kind of found it…interesting…or rather exhilarating.”
“You watched it!??!!”
Art cleared his throat, “It was my camera I set up in her bedroom. She would spend a lot of time here, away from me and my estate and we felt if I put a camera in her bedroom it may help us remain close. And she would entertain me with her own private shows, if you know what I mean heh, heh.”
At this point I’m pretty sure my face was turning redder than the Pink Riesling that I still haven’t stopped sipping. “Umm…” I giggled. “Ahh, Art what did you find…exhilarating?”
Now it was time for Art to stammer a little, “Hah, well, you know, what you were doing. Look, you have a beautiful body and anyone, male or female, would enjoy watching you. Did you feel guilty doing what you did with Laura’s underwear?”
So, what I dreaded was finally broached. I gulped that last of the wine set the glass down and looking straight into Art’s eyes said, “Yes.” It came out as a soft whisper and I immediately looked away. And after a short beat, for some reason I said, “I should be spanked.”
In a rather casual tone, somewhat surreal even, Art responded, “Well, you’re right, you should be punished. I believe Laura will have a word with you later, but you’re right, maybe I should handle the more physical stuff.”
Without any instructions, I stood up at the table and leaned over it grabbing the far edge with my hands.
“That’s a good girl,” Art said as he got up and walked around the table to get behind me.
Then he commented on my racerback bralette, “Nice pink color you’re wearing. Are your panties a matching set?”
“Yes,” I continued to whisper.
I felt his strong, but smooth hands move down my back, feeling my spine through my black tank top. He pushed it up enough to see my waistline.
“These will have to come off for a proper spanking,” he said referring to my short denim shorts.
Again I whispered, “Yes…”
He expertly slid his hands underneath my stomach feeling my bellybutton and unbuttoned my shorts and tugged the zipper down all in one motion. Hmmm, he’s definitely adept at this kind of thing. I giggled…the wine taking effect.
“You find this funny…” he softly said, never raising his voice, never scolding, always comforting. God, I feel like I was in a dream, a wet one for sure as my womanhood was beginning to stir.
He eased my shorts down to my ankles and I stepped out of them.
“Ahh, your panties do match. I believe pink is good on you. What style do you girls call these?”
“Cheeky,” I giggled.
“Yes, they do expose those nice ass cheeks of yours. It seems you were planning for this, you naughty girl.”
And then, slap! slap! slap! Ohhh, when was he gonna stop?
After what seemed like over 5 minutes, but my head was spinning from the wine so that probably wasn’t accurate, he stopped slapping. I then felt his fingers tracing my now tender and slightly sore ass cheeks. It sent shivers up my body and I could feel goosebumps all over. He then pulled down just the backside of my pink lace undies exposing my asshole. It was then I thought my mind was really playing tricks on me as I felt what I thought was his wet tongue on my anus.
“Art?” I faintly whispered. “Art??” No answer, only the unmistakable pressure of his tongue. Did he know how sensitive that portion of my body was? Uhhhh, the stimulation was too much. I quickly slipped a hand down the front of my panties and began rubbing my clit. It seemed hours ago since we sat down at the kitchen table to drink some wine, but my pussy was still wet, and getting wetter. My fingers were covered in my juices and I wanted to taste myself. As I moved my hand up toward my face, Art grabbed my wrist.
“I believe that is for me,” he said, and he pulled my hand back and licked my fingers clean. “Just as I thought, sweeter than wine,” he said in his deep soothing voice.
I giggled and he released my hand.
“I want to see you cum,” he said. Then he finished pulling down my cute panties over my tennis shoes and placed them on the table. Again without instructing me, I spread my legs further apart and standing on the tips of my tennis shoes I raised my butt higher in the air. Still with one hand holding the edge of the table I placed the other one back on my smooth mound and began to masturbate as Laura’s husband watched.
With all the previous activities, our discussion, the wine, his anal licking, my clit rubbing, I was nearing an orgasm rather quickly. I then found myself inserting two fingers in my pussy! Wow, I usually only put one inside, what was going through my head? And then the unmistakable sound of a wet pussy being finger banged. I picked up a fast rhythm, timing it to the smooth jazz riff of a saxophone and began moaning. I instantly thought of Laura still in her bedroom probably hearing my sounds of passion but the hard wooden kitchen table didn’t offer any means of stifling it. Then I remembered my panties and using my free hand, stuffed them into my mouth. I heard Art gasp as if he busted a nut. And that sound, for some reason, put me over the edge as I climaxed on their kitchen table.
Art was so sensitive and knew I had no strength left to remain half standing leaning on the table, so he came closer gently removing the panties from my mouth. I then felt his strong arms around my slim torso and he easily lifted my petite body into his arms and carried me over to their sofa. He laid me on my side as I regained my breath. The cool leather along with their ac that they always had lowered was waking me up out of my stupor. In no time I sat up on the couch and then realized he had at some point removed his bermuda shorts. That sly devil. Plus he was wearing silky black jockey boxers with red chili peppers. And they were low rise, how sexy! But the biggest surprise was his hardon! Oh my god, it was turning me on.
When he saw me eyeing his crotch he started to move away, but I unexpectedly reached out with both hands and grabbed his ass bringing him closer to me, to my face that was inches from his surging member.
“Wait, I thought you were…” Art was stuttering.
“Shhh,” I said. “Don’t ruin the moment.”
And in another surreal moment of time, I pulled (actually yanked) down his low rise jockey briefs and watched his now fully erect penis spring to life. Wow, not something I see often, if at all ha, ha. He too was wet, or rather his pre cum was leaking at the tip of his head. I couldn’t resist and flicked out my long tongue catching the first droplets before they hit the ground. Mmmm, like I’ve heard from my straight girlfriends, it is sweet and delicious. I teased some more out by gripping his stiff member and squeezing it, moving up to the head. When I saw some more of the precious clear fluid I spread it all down his hard shaft with my fingers.
"Oooh, it is sticky!" I giggled.
I have to give Art credit, with him standing there seeing my naked, firm, athletic body and pert tits with erect nipples he somehow kept himself in check and never exploded like I’m sure most guys would have. Such control, Art, you devil!
But I could sense he was on the verge so before that was to happen I wanted him in my mouth. Again that surreal imagery, but I saw my lips slide past his engorged head and down his shaft. I forgot to open my mouth wide (I’m not experienced at all in this type of sexual activity) and I heard him groan, as my teeth raked his sensitive member, but I quickly adjusted and took more of him down my tiny throat.
Before I felt the gag reflex, I moved my head back to expose his lower shaft. I then remembered what some of my girlfriends told me they do and placed a hand around the base of his shaft and began rhythmically bobbing my head as my long, brown wavy hair moved in unison.
I can only imagine what he was thinking now, so after another 10 minutes (I k** you not) I stopped my attempt at fellatio and sat back. I ran my hands over my body feeling all the sweat I worked up and was really feeling overwhelmed to the point of exhaustion, but I wanted him to fulfill his need, so before I collapsed I told him to cum on my body.
Needing no further instructions, I watched as Art pulled on his erect penis and within in seconds was spurting his hot white cum all over my torso and small breasts. I think I had passed out, but I swear he never made a sound. And always the gentleman I could feel him wiping me clean with his jockey underwear.
Now dear readers, I don’t know how much time elapsed when I woke up. And I immediately knew I was in Laura’s bed because I could smell her sent on the sheets. It was then I heard:
“Did you have fun with my husband?”
I was still not awake enough to answer.
“Well, now it’s my turn,” Laura said.
Sweet Jesus…is this really happening?
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