" I finally grumbled back at her. But I already KNOW thatI can't do what the salon did!"She didn't answer so I got up, shaved and had some breakfast....hile we were eating, there was a knock on the front door. Ilooked at Barb but she looked back at me with a puzzled look onher face. I got up to see who it was. When I got to the door andopened it, I got the shock of my life. At the door was my boss,Jim, AND two of the women from the salon!!! They had a bunch ofcases with them and were looking at. The boss, whispered "mom" lit a joint, and started to cry. I wanted to comfort him, but, i didn't want to upset him even more; so, I left him alone.He loved singing old German folk songs, whenever he felt sad (the boss was a very cultured person) so, he did just that.He stood there, for 7-8 minutes, smoking weed, and quietly singing, "i love the regen, ist der regen nass, das Fett, Fett Mädchen haben alle dicke Ärsche und große Brüste, oh, wie ich die regen Liebe, ihre so, so nass"The boss had. A week passed and tensions only grew more heightened. I could see the sexual craving building in her every day. We were in the most relaxing place on earth and yet there was a distinct tension in her face. She was begging to be fucked. It was her move and one morning, she made it. I was dozing in bed, half awake, half asleep when she came in. Straight away I noticed the lower cut of her dressing gown, which she usually kept up to her neck. Now it revealed her gorgeous, full breasts bulging out,. Slowly, inch by inch, I stretched her open, until my palm caressed her outer lips. My tongue lavished her clit with wet kisses. I chanced a look up, Kay smiling, encouraging me to continue. I flexed my fingers inside Maura’s tightness causing her to moan into Kay’s breast. Maura’s hand held me tight to her now copiously leaking cunt. I kept feathering her clit with my tongue as I searched her insides for her g-spot, clawing and scratching the walls of her womb with my hungry fingers. Suddenly.
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I'm not sure how much more of this I can stand, I ask myself if I should intervene-- what would happen if I did-- I imagine my husband turning on me,
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