”--””--Alice more or less forgot about the recording of her mother. To her, the woman in the recording was a stranger. Other than looking a litt...e like her there was no real connection. Most certainly not an emotional one.Alice had grown up in perhaps the harshest environment, fighting for basic survival every day. That she had been dumped like trash had calloused her mind in that regard, and that she was taken care of by a man who himself had virtually nothing made her quite uncaring about the. A muffled voice from the hallway signified he was, and so she sat herself before the long mirror of her dressing table, picked up a hair brush and unclasping the brown tortoise-shell barret from the right side of her head, began her nightly ritual.Mentally, she counted as the hairbrush stroked her thick wealth of hair. She stared at herself as she counted, satisfied with what she saw.But was Art?Tonight he would be, she grinned salaciously at her mimicking image. Against her better judgment,. I remove her tights and pants, pulling them down her legs. I briefly bury my face in their warmth, breathing in her smell, enjoying her musk.We get to the bedroom and she turns to me before sinking to her knees, unzipping me and freeing my hard clock from its confines. She rubs her cheek along my shaft, a glistening of precum on her cheek. Her hot mouth takes my deep red knob inside, her tongue savouring my sweet lubricating juices. She sucks me long and hard, pulling my trousers and pants. Aimee grabbed the money, then started back towards the pizza guy. As she got there, she held out the money for the guy, saying, Here you go, and as she did so, the towel slipped away, leaving my wife standing naked in front of this guy who was at least 12 years younger than she was. I heard her squeal, as if it had been an accident, and she bent down to get the towel, lifting it up to cover her body. I couldnt make out the guys face, but I could tell he was stunned and was staring at her. Im.
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