She seemed just as keen to have me feast on her hairy clam till she was oozing with juices which she Didn,t always do now she,d turned 56. I also realised her lovely crack was much looser than she,d been all those years before, but then she,d been fairly stretched by a fair few big cocks over the years. It still felt great fucking her from the rear as I could “accidentally” slip up her tight arse hole without her moaning about me “fucking the Wrong Hole!” But on this occasion Sir Harry My Cock seemed very happy to fuck her juicy twat though it seemed to take longer before my ejaculation erupted into her tight quim. As usual she turned round and squeezed the excess cum from my balls so she eat all the sperm I spurted, then licked her lips happily. After we got our breaths back we took a bath together in our large tub, dried each other off and put dressing gowns on, hers over bra and knickers, mine over my underpants as daughter Christina would soon be returning home from one of her. She called at number twelve, and collected her book, then walked on. Mr Clark at number fifteen looked up from his gardening and watched her pass. She knew he was watching her, and swung her hips, smiling to herself. It was mid summer, a warm late afternoon. She wore a pair of gladiator sandals, heeled to define her calfs which were crisscrossed by the long thongs which reached her knees. She had good legs, long and slender. The short summer dress moved with her body. She felt great. But there was always but! Her husband was in Afghanistan a long tour. She was lonely. Lonely and frustrated she reached number twenty four, Cathy’s house. Her last call, drop the book and she was done. She knocked on the door, wondering if Cathy fancied a night on the town. She rang the door bell, but there was no answer. Linda walked around the back of the house, expecting to see Cathy in the garden. She wasn’t there, but the back door was open. She walked in, calling out her friend’s name. She opened.
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