I would have said something funny or witty, but my tongue was soon otherwise engaged, preoccupied with the delicious task of eating Pippa’s yummy sl...it. Once again, I devoured that sweet spot of my English tart, relishing the delectable flavors of her snatch. It was a little harder to focus on her pussy, of course, due to having Karen’s enclosed around my prick, but the absolutely tasty juices that flowed from Pippa’s cunt into my mouth certainly helped. God damn, it was the most wonderful. We agreed on a old haunt of mine and when my husband saw me dress he panicked slightly, 'You look like a high class tart', referring to my stockings and heels, half cut brassiere with my nipples jutting into my open necked blouse and my g-string panties that barely covered my pussy or the shortness of my skirt that easily showed my ass cheeks from behind.'I intend having some fun too', I protested, having to resist my husbands begging for a quickie before we left for the pub and his meeting. .He collapses back against the couch, exhausted. I look up at him and smile, noticing that he's dripping with sweat...I get back on top of him and begin to kiss him slowly, softly, enjoying this moment of intimacy and allowing him to taste his cum on my lips...He kisses me back, his hand gliding up my thigh, to my pussy and he gasps, complete, heated lust darkening his chocolate brown eyes when he touches me and feels how wet I am! I moan against his mouth as he continues to slide his two. In a few moments, they were unintelligible bits of glossy, colorful paper and I thought no more about them.********Afghanistan in late winter is abominable. It's always bitterly cold...or snowy...or windy. Actually, it was usually all three at once. It was seldom that all three of the weather patterns ease up and give us a nice day. On top of that, this north, northeastern sector of the country was incredibly barren and bleak to my eyes. I had no clue why anyone would want to live here, but.