" You cross your heart."As I grin and beam from ear to ear propitiously and auspiciously, I willingly and with lief pleasure mention to him, "Yes, Stian, I do cross my heart on that indeed; verily."Arghhhh! Ooo-oosh! Stian's large and immensely attractive fingers are in my pussy and cunt, tapping and stabbing and poking inside there. Yeah. It is super. It is excellent. It is cracking topping. I adore and cherish and treasure it when he does this. It gladdens and tickles me pink. It gives me paramount most pleasure and utopia and Eden and every inch and wonderfully prepares and makes me ready for sex. That is what it does ... without fail.I catch my breath; I gulp and slurp down speedily and hastily sharp intakes of active, cracking, and headlong breaths. He necks and snogs and canoodles and pecks me all the more faster and delightfully and enjoyably, beating and knocking seven bells of bliss and delectation out of my pussy below with his lengthy, hulking, spectacular, and strenuous. She didn't mind. In Trevor's absence she painted watercolor landscapes of the surrounding countryside which sold well in a gallery in town. When he returned she was happy to be the loving wife of a successful IT specialist who, she was sure, would, one day, make a fortune to rival Gates'. She was also less security conscious.As Gina prepared supper, Trevor played chess at the other end of the big, solid, kitchen table with the sixteen year old step-daughter of his Uncle Gus' second marriage known as 'Kipper'. She was a sort of cousin who had, said Gina, a teenage crush on her handsome and athletic husband. Kipper was a frequent visitor at the farm when Trevor was present. Her dark complexion and long black hair contrasted with Gina's short blonde page-boy and peaches and cream coloring. Kipper was still wearing her school uniform. She usually changed before supper into something which showed a bit too much teen flesh, Gina had said acidly on several occasions... Gina finished tossing.
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