Back then I wasn't called Lulu, there was no Lulu. I was Louise; a nineteen year old runaway getting by from moving from town to town, taking whatever... I could and then moving onto the next. My good looks and quick mind were enough to fool even the most cynical into believing that I was somebody they could trust. In a couple of weeks I could strip a village of most of its disposable income and move onto the next before anyone even arose suspicion. It was a perfect life of crime and in a country. I told him to slow down a bit and be gentler with my balls, he then softly took them into his mouth one at a time and rolling his tongue all over them. I then told him to lick my shaft from where it meets my balls all the way up to the very tip. His long tongue was the perfect tool for this job, and I laid back in his father’s chair looking down on my “son” slurping away on his Daddies cock. As pleasant and gentle as this all was, I knew I really wanted to face fuck this piggy little whore. I. ’ ‘Can’t find my mobile,’ I said hastily, falling upon the easy excuse. ‘I’ll give Drew a call from the office in a minute and ask if he’s seen it.’ ‘That husband of yours working from home today then?’ Alice’s voice wafted after me into the kitchen. Husband. I smiled at the warped reflection of myself in the chrome kettle as I flipped the lid and filled it from the tap. I wasn’t used to that word, even three months after our wedding. It still gave me a warm fuzzy glow inside. ‘Yes, working. I mean I love being here with the girls but the boys aren't really what I'm looking for, at least not today." She replied."Alright then, Jen it is. So tell me Jen, why sit here with a frumpy, old divorced housewife when there are so many other things to do?" You're not old and frumpy Mrs. Wilson, not at all. God I think you're one of the sexiest women I've met in a long time and I just thought maybe we could talk for a little while."I didn't know what to do with that compliment. Me ... sexy? I.