Then he affectionately started grinding his whole face in my pussy and building me up again. Then he stopped. I told him rather abruptly to not do that anymore. I was afraid of heart failure if he brought me to that very second again and stopped. He finally let me take his head and press it firmly against my snatch as he lapped me up and I came very hard. Another orgasm started before that one stopped and his tongue sent me over and over again with orgasm after orgasm. I needed that cock inside of me again and he knew it too. He worked his way up and fucked me again eagerly. He wanted something else he said. I looked at him and smiled and licked my lips. And he smiled. I know what he loves. I crawled on top of him and leaned back and let him take a look at my breasts as I held them for him. My long, curly, auburn red hair was flowing down my shoulders and in my face as he looked me over. I straddled his leg so I could rub my wetness and my pussy all over his body. I leaned down and. When they died, I inherited the house and what was left of their savings (not a lot, I'm afraid). The house was small in a pretty little established middle-class neighborhood. It mainly had young couples with k**s who walked to and from school in the mornings and afternoons; mothers who walked babies in strollers during the day and were at home waiting for their k**s when they got home from school; and fathers who worked during the day and were home at night. The lawns were mowed on the weekend, and charcoal grilles were fired up in the afternoon or evening. Once a year, or so, a block party was held at which everyone got together to say hi and let all the k**s play together while the street was blocked off. The woman across the street, a pretty little thing with two k**s, would have a Saturday night party now and then where the four or five closest neighbors (me included) would come round, and drink and laugh and play silly games (one I remember in particular was a game of charades.
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