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. It's SO perfect! I feel my balls tighten in glorious pressure as I drop down to the floor with her. Her stroking my shaft as I kiss her cute mouth lovingly, tasting delicious spit as our souls begin to merge. Instantly after that, I feel my dick head tingle with that insatiable pressure. Sitting up I rub my tip up and down her chest. "UUhhh!!!" I shoot the first, thick loads all over her perky tits and down her flat white stomach. Then, pushing my dick into her nipple I squeeze the very last bit of it onto her soft-pink areola. My jizz now running all down her front... Her left breast so thickly covered... Her nipple is hidden beneath a white blanket of sperm. Her face tightens as she says, "Eeewww..." she giggles. "THAT was alot!" Everybody else amazed, agrees with her. I get dressed while Miss K with a very satisfied smile soon comes crashing back to Earth to tell us, "Oh my god!!!" Handing Lauren the box of kleenex. "The bell rings in five minutes!! Come on you guys...". No, this had less to do with the size of Brad’s cock and more to do with him as a person. His confidence was overwhelming. His charisma and ego were as powerful an aphrodisiac as anything ever marketed. My wife is a strong, confident woman who had been pushed to the edge by my own inadequacies. I saw that frustrated look on her face every time we made love. I saw the disappointment in her eyes. For years, no decades, she was left in a constant state of frustration till she could no longer take it and finally took matters into her own hands. Quite literally so it would seem.So believe me when I say I was not at all surprised when one week to the day after our encounter with Brad, I saw my wife’s car parked outside of his business on my way home from work. I slowed down and even flipped on my turn signal as if to pull into the parking lot but at the last second I just continued on my way home. I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t face them together again. I was scared. I was afraid of.
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She was desperate.After two more hours she decided to go home. Maybe that man would come to the café again, maybe they could meet another time. But maybe, he wasn’t even interested in her. He didn’t smile, like Miguel did. He didn’t turn red like Tom or offered her a drink, like Mr. Burroghs would’ve done. Pondering she walked home slowly.When she arrived, she couldn’t find her key. Of course, her handbag was still left in that godforsaken café. She was angry now. Angry and cold and wet. She decided to let it all out on Michael. In the end it was his fault alltogether. She knocked hardly on the front door.Nothing happened. She waited another five minutes, than knocked again. “Stupid oaf,” she thought. “Must’ve fallen asleep in front of the damn TV”.She knocked again and listened carefully on the door. She could hear something. At first she thought it was Michaels snoring, but it sounded kind of strange. Anne walked trough the wet and dark garden to peek trough a window into the.

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