The beautiful blonde with the still nearly perfect bouffant coif, more than 20 years younger than her husband (or so she told everybody), was wearing ...aby blue pajamas trimmed in navy, buttoned to the Eton collar. "Uh, Ose, he's up. I had wanted to be cooking hotscakes for him," she said, reaching for the burgundy bathrobe with the Harvard crest. She slipped it on, and looked around, away from the one door. "In the kitchen, I could escape through the back's door." "Lisa!! Why am I wearing your. The tears had run what little makeup she wore and her back rose and fell heavily as she gasped for air from the orgasms. My free hand moved to her ass, cupping her sweaty bum and placed my thumb on the plug. I forced it against her rim, as if attempting to force the jewel beyond her wall. I wiggled it and varied the pressure, fucking her asshole with the short plug and causing sinful, new waves of pleasure to combine with the vibrations on her clit for her third orgasm. Juices flowed freely. More

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