This is where Mrs. V keeps her panties. There’s nothing particularly special about Mrs. V’s panties. They aren’t red satin thongs or crotchless ...nd leopard printed. Those aren’t fit for her anyway, they wouldn’t match her. The thing I know about Mrs. V that appeals to me is that I don’t know much about her. I know her exteriors, I know her friendly social housewife persona. But that’s a classification she molded herself into and will preserve, right down to the underwear she chooses for. Even with the soft background music, I imagined I could hear the squelch of my little Partner's sopping cunt as Joel's genitals sunk in and out of the wetness."Ready to turn over?" Oh shit. I don't think I've got the energy." Come on." Said Joel, getting off her and helping her turn over. No cover was offered and none was asked for, as my Partner lay on her back totally naked with an all but naked, oil covered, man perched above her admiring her totally surrendered body. Joel straddled her. More

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