The past weeks when we said goodbye we fist-bumped or I just gave him a quick peck on the cheek. This time, he kept lingering and stalling. I moved a ...bit closer to him. Now there were just inches between us. His body towered above mine and I could see his chest moving more rapidly. For a few seconds I didn't dare to look up to him because I could feel he was looking down at the top of my head. Suddenly, he raised his hand, patted me on the head (yes, really) and said: "Well...thanks again." His. I unzipped my trousers and took my cock out. “I’m so hard Mum, l’ve been thinking about fucking your tits all through my round. Old Mrs Harris at the top of the road was just picking up her milk when l got there this morning, l could see down the front of her dress, those huge tits she has were hanging down, l wanted to ask her if l could fuck them.”“David, you must be careful,” Mum said, “if anyone found out what we are doing l would be in a lot of trouble.”“Oh come on Mum,” l said, reaching. ‘Wearing the right clothes helps me to imagine my way into the story.’ ‘So it’s a fairly sexy sort of story, is it?’ I surmised. ‘Not exactly your Oliver Twist, or David Copperfield, style of Victorian saga.’ ‘Well, it’s what we in the business term a bodice-ripper,’ Vanessa explained. ‘Hence the bodice,’ I replied. ‘Exactly, hence the bodice. But I must admit,’ she confided, ‘I have to exercise a certain amount of self-censorship when I write. My delicate lady readers prefer for me to gloss. I Started rubbing and playing with Bruce's cock to get him hard as he was very soft, I opened my legs allowing Bruce to get a view of my shaven married pussy, to which he started rubbing my leg, I then told him I hadn’t let my husband fuck me in two weeks as I wanted to make him suffer, still my hand was working Bruce's cock trying to get him hard. I started wanking him a little faster; his cock finally began growing hard, I then started to lick him, up and down his shaft with my tongue teasing.