“Please. Thank you Henri.”So I went to see his wife Martine, who was lovely, and she gave me a programme to follow, and the testosterone. It seeme...d to me it was a bit dodgy what she and Henri were doing with testosterone in a ski team, but I kept those thoughts to myself; I supposed inter-resort competition could get quite intense but they weren’t tested? Or perhaps it was to speed up healing from injuries? Anyway for me and my clit it sounded doable. Or at least, worth a try.But I had to grow. I had to admit that her posh voice sounded rather contrived. And she even pronounced her poodle's name "Louis" in a French accent.I thought of "Lady Jane's" supercilious expression as I sucked Aunt Anne's breast harder, trying to imagine the horrified look on her face if she could see us. I looked into my aunt's face and reciprocated her impression of a snobbish face. I smirked. Aunt Anne grinned back and chuckled softly.At the risk of sounding pathetic or puerile, although I knew that we were. How do I handle that? For most men the problem would be cut and dried - throw the slut out and get on with your life. But I love the stupid cunt; I love her and I don't want to lose her, but how can I live with her after what she has done? How do I listen to her express her undying love for me at the same time she admits to loving all the strange cock she had been getting? I'm almost to the point of writing to Ann Landers or Dear Abby and asking them for advice.Marty has been an executive. He was trained to respond to that in combat. But not when he was shooting jism all over himself, not when he was having his first girl assisted orgasm since he’d left fucking Afghanastan. Jason’s body jerked as his hot cum spewed out of his cock and the electric convulsed every muscle he had. Lauren kept the stun gun on his neck, the trigger pressed firmly down, the thousands of volts of electricity flooding into his nervous system. They’d taken several boys his way. They’d learned the.