He started kissing the back of my neck, my back, then my lower back and finally my ass. He told me to kneel on the couch and arch over. I did as I was...told; he got behind me, grabbed his cock, rubbed it up and down my pussy, then up and down my ass, and then finally inserted his cock inside me. Oh my, the minute he entered me I saw stars. He pressed his chest against my back, kissed my neck, grabbed my hips and started to kiss the side of my face until I turned and we kissed each other. I told. It would be ridiculous -- wouldn't it? -- to attribute my hot bat to the fact that, after a long while, I had gotten laid? First off, I'd had a hot bat on Saturday, too, and on Saturday, I had not yet gotten laid -- unless you count getting laid -- by self-exile from my own bedroom -- on a too-short couch, for half of a too-short night. That night, I had been avoiding what I really most wanted to do, which was to jump the bones of my newfound girlfriend on just our second night together in all. For a couple in our forties, we were both in pretty good shape, if I must say so myself, and sweating and straining at the gym helped keep us feeling young at heart, plus it never failed to put us in the mood for the bedroom festivities which inevitably followed. Our typical gym nights always ended the same way, with us tearing our clothes off as soon as we entered our home and sharing a hot, steamy shower together before practically devouring each other in our king-size bed. As much as I. Mr. Grizwell's standing at attention and rubbing my arm. "Remove your uniform." Mr. Grizwell demanded as Mr. Flare placed my hand on his swollen dick. I could feel myself getting wet and I considered the possibility of me fucking these two old men. Mr. Grizwell had just went through a divorce and Mr. Flare still lived with his mother. A wave of pity passed through me and I tugged off my skirt, leaving my socks and panties on. "Shirt too." They said in unison. I removed my collared shirt and.
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