His look was almost unkempt, and vaguely lupine. A dark stubble bristled his chin and jaw—a real one, not the meticulously cultivated kind—and his... wavy hair was tousled to just the right side of civilized. He must be outdoors a lot, I squinted. After September, a suntan in Quebec was about as rare as hen’s teeth.Then all at once, it dawned on me how I could sway him. Seriously, he doesn’t want my oils. Just look at him. He doesn’t give a damn about art. And why should he? I shook my head. He. Her lawyer said I had no just cause, for enforcing our pre-nup agreement, all the pictures showed were two people having lunch, and a friendly kiss, at the end of the meal, that was all.I told my attorney, I'd take it from here. I passed over the photo showing Jerry and her holding hands."So?" her lawyer said."You see that man at the next table?" I asked. "That's Robert Townsend of Townsend Industries, my firms largest account. Do you see the look of disgust on his face? Now look at the same. “Saturdays are laundry days at our house. I’ll have you start with that. Be sure to treat any stains and pay attention to the washing instructions. Undergarments should be hand washed. Iron anything that needs it before hanging it up. Carefully fold everything else. Any questions?”“No ma’am, I’ll get started right away.”In addition to Denise and Mrs. Vance, there were also clothes from Mr. Vance and Denise’s little sister Sandra. The week’s worth of clothing made quite a stack. Apparently,. It was amazing. My mind drowned with rapture as he licked and lapped up my cream. I held him tight, my tits quivering.“Shanice!” he moaned as I hit that wonderful peak. “You have to fuck my asshole!” I moaned.“What?” He ripped his head from between my thighs, my pussy cream covering his face.I rolled over onto my stomach and bent over the desk. I reached my hands back and tore the pantyhose to expose my butt-crack. Then I parted my peachy cheeks and exposed my asshole to Daddy. I shuddered, my.