"Yeah. What's that stuff they put on cakes ...marzipan… but stronger?" Inodded but it wasn't marzipan as such, although it had a similar smell. When... I was younger, much, much younger, I read a lot of books, mainly detectivenovels. Conan Doyle, of course, Leslie Charteris, Ed McBain, Raymond Chandlerand Agatha Christie. The one thing Agatha Christie loved was a bottle of poison and any one whoreads her novels knows that one particular poison has a very distinctive smell – thesmell of bitter. She was in fact a bloke, something which everyone knew because when he moved there he was a bloke called Dave, and at a point in time put on a wig, frock, and high heels and called him, or her, self Elsie. You can, by the way, usually tell a transvestite because they mow the lawn in high heels. Aerates the grass too.The young couple were very pleasant, locally born and bred and worked on local farms. He was a horticulturalist, of a kind, the kind that the police usually like to know about, and. She'd know soon enough.With Terri still perched wide-legged on the barstool, I backed off, watching her cunt lips close together after I withdrew my pecker that was sheathed with the condom, now slimy inside and out. I was slightly embarrassed to have cum so fast, but I tried to make myself believe that next time I fucked her, I would really treat her to an experience. I stood there making out with her, condom sliding off my drooping cock, fingers at her snatch, trying to get her off manually,. It still felt as if she tried to stay in her doctor's role. She let go with one hand. Suddenly I felt soft skin enveloping my dick. She had opened her blouse and was squeezing her amazing boobies around my cock while playing gently with her nipples. She still avoided eye contact but she was clearly super horny. I could hold it any more. This time, I wanted to go all the way. I let my arm slide from the bed and quickly found my way up her legs. Fuck, all I could find was a string disappearing.