I moaned helplessly and grabbed his hair, raising my body further upward and allowing my heaving breasts to be completely enveloped by his skilled mou...h and hands. He was going mad for my luscious breasts, moaning and breathing heavily on them with each passionate kiss he placed on and around my extremely sensitive nipples. For a moment, he let his mouth rest on the smooth valley between my breasts, darting his tongue out and slowly beginning to lick and kiss his way down my navel. My eyes. Martine would at a certain point of the story describe in graphic detail the massive length and girth of the Count’s copious cock. At this point in the story Martine would cast a sad-eyed look down at her husband’s pitiful skinny appendage flopping flaccidly between his legs and pout, a scornful look covering her countenance. During this “story time” Martine’s husband invariably would get hard. His tiny dick, a thin stubby little thing, would stick up like a humorous joke. If Martine’s pussy. More

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