Everything was dead quiet, and so far I'd seen nobody. After having to relearn the layout of the house as I wandered through it, I found my bikini bot...om and top, but the sarong was nowhere to be found. "Beggars can't be fucking choosers," I muttered to myself, before finding my purse near the front door. The payment. Where was my money? I looked at my phone, littered with about 20 text messages from Jon over the past 12 hours or so, and considered calling Victor, then decided to walk around. He was riding easily and confidently. My wife, he kept on saying to himself. My wife! Or, soon anyway! “You’re... quite a man yourself. Especially for... for your age...” “Thanks...” “Pity you’re so fat...” “I... ahh... I’ll try and... and slim...” “I’ll see you do.” Quentin placed his hands under the two lovely curves of Melissa’s buttocks and lifted her up a little. He began to fuck her more strongly again. “Mmmm...” she sighed, “that feels good. ” “You really like it?” “Yes... I really do.. More

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