Artist’s fingers, she thinks. He is an artist. But he doesn’t paint anymore. The dim light bathes the pages of the book in yellow light. His face ...s shadowed, hidden in the darkness. A bottle of red wine sits beside him, opened, half empty. She watches him read. On my wedding day, she thinks, on my wedding day, I was happy. She turns abruptly and walks outside onto the veranda. Moonlight washes the old wooden flooring in pale white light. The gnarled fingers of the old sycamore tree snatch at. “I know. It makes you so hard, doesn’t it?” she purred. Then she looked over her shoulder. “And you, honey? Does it make you hard?”“Yeah,” Kurt groaned, rubbing at his crotch. “She bred my step-sister.”Dona’s face tightened for a second. Then she let out a whimpering moan. “Mmm, this cock bred me. I never wanted to have kids, but...” She slid her pussy down my cock, swallowing more and more of my girth. Her silky flesh caressed me, sending delight shooting down to my cunt. “But this feel so. More

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