For the longest time, he sat at the table, not saying anything, just trying to sort out his thoughts and feelings on what he now knew about his wife's...clandestine activities. To his credit, Charles was not prone to rash, spur-of-the-moment decisions and he wanted to think this through before doing or saying anything.However this very aspect of his personality, one Honey had always admired him for before now, was driving her crazy. "Please Charles...say something... please," she pleaded with. They were made of Lucite acrylic, smoky pink.She crossed the room to the dresser and lifted the hairbrush in pussy-juiced fingers. The handle extended a good six inches from it and was a bit thicker than her index finger.It was only a substitute, she knew, and a poor substitute at that.But it was all she had.As she baked at it, one hand slithered back down between her legs. Her fingers moved lightly over her labia, teasing the flesh and maintaining the terrible level of her as yet unsatisfied. More

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