He never got into the whores or the dope. Never had to. A dapper and well dressed man, he delighted in simple pleasures, his house, his garden, good ...ood, fine wine and an accompanying cigar... His position meant that he chose his friends wisely and seldom; he would never have admitted to being lonely, but perhaps he was. He would be 59 this year, Joan would have been 60. But his wife hadn't seen even the 59, breast cancer. Never smoked a fucking cigarette in her life. Go figure. Stephano was. Her pubic hair was pale, golden but copious except around her lips, as if she had shaved it away so her cunt was more obvious, somehow obscenely so. Her fingers ran lightly through my own, black hair as my tongue caressed her. Lifting her heels onto the seat meant I could access all of her, from her clitoris to her arsehole and that wonderfully sensitive skin between arse and cunt. There was no rush. I was slow, light of touch, savouring every crease, fold and bump.Her lips flowered almost. More

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