If I hear “Last Train to Clarksville” or another of his anecdotes about busty librarians again I was going to lose my damned mind.Ignoring the gar...and and wreath that usually picked me up, I walked through the door, kicked off my boots and walked into the kitchen. Stopping in my tracks, I paused, backed up a few feet and looked into the living room. Yup. There she was, sitting on the couch with some stranger. He was sitting way too close and was turned towards her. I didn’t need to be a. Instinctively I spread my legs further, asking for more. He obliged; his hot tongue slid from my clit to dip into my pussy, fucking me with it while his fingers rubbed my clit. Then he went further, his tongue lapped eagerly at my arse and he slid his fingers into my pussy.Now, listen, it's not that my husband never does this, but it's seriously like a twice-a-year thing, maybe - but I fucking love it! Having my arse teased while I'm being fingered or fucked is heaven. So I held onto the desk. More

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