1. Oh You Bastard!


    Date: 1/13/2016, Categories: Wife Lovers, Author: purpleshade, Rating: 2, Source: LushStories

    "That's better," I said, as he put a beaming smile on my face. He left in a bit of a huff this morning, so to be taken by surprise in the pantry on a warm Sunday afternoon was very sensual. His breath was boozy as he kissed me, the tongue swirling in my mouth, tugging passionately. The unexpected kiss, combined with the alcohol fumes on his breath, swept me off my feet. I love his Boozy breath since I don't drink at all; a certain high from tasting it on his lips, and not to mention the taste of her cunt. In the pantry, his mouth is locked onto mine without a single word being spoken. His hand slides up my skirt, gently caressing the flabby flesh of my curvy arse, softly pinching the bum-fluff that I refuse to shave. My 38c natural tits are awoken to his loving touch; the nipples standing to attention, as if awaiting a hungry suck. The rings around my pert nipples turn darker with anticipation. My hairy armpits begin to perspire, not knowing how far he intends to go. There is sweat down the entire length of my spine, the blouse starting to exude the aroma of a wanton woman. The dark hair on my thick lilly white thighs stands on end as the goose pimples send mixed messages through my nerve endings. I stand on tip toes. The strap of my leather high heeled sandals becoming caught under my heel rather than around it. The toes are shiny with freshly painted gloss, the pink flesh spilling through the straps. The hardened skin bearing witness to carrying the weight of a large ...
    bulky, dress size eighteen woman. I try to lift my arm as high as possible, knowing full well the aroma of my hairy pit resulting in him attaining a riveting hard-on. I can feel his beast pressing against my soft fat belly, wanting to be set free, wanting to pass seed, wanting to find solace in the vast dark hairy minge that it calls 'home'. The gusset of my black knickers is sodden, my thighs half soaked, as I begin to ponder about what he's been doing with his work colleagues. He's a great connisoieur of feet, has he had her toes in his mouth today? There is a slight musky taste on his tongue, I'm sure he has. The petite blonde, Carol, has beautiful high arched pes cavus feet to die for. Her toes are always shiny with transparent gloss, the front tip of the nails a brilliant white. Did he suck the three middle toes, leaving the big and little toe out? Did he lick the pink ball part of the foot? Did his saliva slobber between the arches? Did he apply the tongue onto the arch a and sniff lustily? All these thoughts swirl around in my head, my knees becoming jelly, and me putty in his hands. He's such a bastard! Why do I love him so much? Why do I relish being underneath him? Why do I entertain his floozy colleagues? Why do I like the taste of other women's cum on his lips? Why do I love the taste of other women's feet on his saliva? He's such a bastard! Why do I want his hands on my hips in the shower? Why do I give in so easily after an argument? "You needed that, didn't you," he ...
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