"I want to relax you," you say as her panties slipped over her round, toned buttocks.She wiggled on the sofa in an attempt to help.You pull her panties down her thighs, past her knees, and let them crumble around her ankles. Your hand slipped between her legs and with shaking fingers moved upward until you felt the heat from between her legs. Your finger probed and found her moist core."You're sooo wet," you say as you spread her thighs.Slipping a finger inside a moan escaped her lips."Are you going to lick my little pink pussy" she asked.You responded by kissing her inner thighs, trailing your tongue over her soft, warm skin. Her hand found your head and she ran her fingers through your hair. Lifting her legs over your head and kissed her freshly waxed cunt,some thing you wanted her to do for a long time . She was wet and the taste sent a shiver down your body to right to your waking cock.You begin to harden.The doorbell rang and Kelly gasped.You pulled away from your wife with a. ” He struck a match and lit two gas mantles. The light dispersed the gloom of dusk from the room.Bridget looked around. It was a very nice room, decorated with Yale pennants to show Jim’s college experience. It was neat and clean, but she thought the bed was intrusive. It took up much of the floor space and more of the space in her thoughts.“Don’t you want to get out of your things?” Jim asked. He took off his own tuxedo jacket and started to untie his tie.“Where can I? I mean I need help.” A wedding dress wasn’t the sort of thing one could put on or take off by oneself, to say nothing of the corset.“This is your room, now, dear. Use it. And I’ll help if you tell me what to do. Mildred -- Harriet for that matter -- is still dealing with the remains of the reception.”Bridget didn’t have another choice. Her mother had helped her on with the wedding dress, but she wasn’t here. She wouldn’t be here. Bridget couldn’t imagine asking Mrs. Powell for help, even if she had gotten home yet. It.
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