Dinner & consequences

[Alice Bluegown]

Hi all - this one's a bit long, so I'm breaking it down into four parts. As usual, it's a slow burner, but I hope you like it anyway...

DINNER & CONSEQUENCES

Part 1: The Dinner

So, you’re wondering how it all started: me and Keith and our sort-of ex-wives; the whole weird palaver. It started in the most mundane fashion imaginable - there was an invitation, and it was accepted. Keith and I had been very tight at one stage, in fact he was Best Man at my wedding (but I wasn’t at his): however, we had steadily drifted apart over a number of years, for various tangled reasons. One was our respective career arcs - Keith was a thrusting, go-getter type working his way up in the financial sector; I was happily bedded down in a humdrum office job that held zero prospects for advancement, but paid the mortgage. Another sticking point - it seems absurd to recall now - was Keith’s wife. Helen was a tall, strikingly attractive woman with auburn hair and a 100-watt smile that could stop your heart cold. After they married we saw quite a lot of each other as couples, and my wife Sarah - who is lovely but not what you would call supermodel material - used to suggest, not entirely frivolously, that I only went because I had the hots for Helen. Which was true, I suppose, in a way - Helen was gorgeous, but I didn’t desire her, not consciously at least. I used to retaliate by accusing Sarah of lusting after Keith, who was your typical slick, bronzed, gym-haunting City type. This wasn’t true either, but the underlying tension every time we got together as a foursome only helped to drive us away in the end.

So when the invite to dinner plopped onto our doormat, it brought both excitement and the trepidation of opening old (if absurd) wounds. It took me a couple of days to pluck up the courage to ask Sarah about it.

“So, what d’you think?” I asked.

“He’s your friend, Andy,” she shrugged. “It’s up to you…”

“They’re our friends,” I corrected gently. “And we haven’t seen them for years.”

“You decide - I really don’t care if we go or not.”

Despite her feigned indifference, I could Sarah actually did care. I knew she was thinking about Helen and, to be frank, at that moment so was I.

“All right,” I said firmly, “We’re going.”

We drove over on a bland, autumnal Saturday afternoon. Keith’s place had changed little since our last visit - the trees were a little taller, the whole garden a little more mature and overgrown. It was a big, expensive house with a silvery Merc lurking in the drive - not, I surmised, the household’s only car.

Keith welcomed us like old friends, which I guess was only appropriate. Keith looked good: unlike me, his hair hadn’t thinned; I wondered if maybe he’d had some sort of treatment. He was rather gushing about the way Sarah looked, which rather took me aback - I guess I’d become a bit blasé about my wife, even when she made an effort.

Helen, it transpired, was lovely as ever - if anything, even lovelier. The years had added a kind of ripeness to her beauty, like an apple matures to its finest just before it falls from the tree. I spent a good five minutes gawping at her like an idiot before the wafting heat of Sarah’s jealousy snapped me to my senses.

Much of what happened that evening was entirely predictable: there were drinks, chit-chat. Hesitantly at first, but with increasing ease, we all caught up on each other and on old times. Helen served up a superb meal (gorgeous and a great cook - I could sort of understand Sarah’s problem); there were more drinks, to the point where both Sarah and I forgot who was supposed to be Designated Driver - oh, well. It was all very convivial, but there was a lurking sense of building up to something - that Keith and Helen hadn’t invited us over for entirely altruistic reasons. We were well past dessert and deep into further drinks before we finally got our first inkling.

“D’you mind if I ask you two a slightly impertinent question?” Keith suddenly blurted. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“Ask away,” I said, neutrally as I could.

“Did you ever seriously think about having children?”

I was tempted to roll my eyes. This one came up frequently at family gatherings, the whole why-haven’t -you-got-kids-yet routine. We’d learned to deal with it head-on.

“Of course,” I replied. “We discussed it many times. But when we totted up the likely cost of having a baby, Sarah’s loss of income, not to mention the disruption to our lifestyle, well - call us selfish, but it just didn’t seem worth it.”

Keith nodded sagely. I stole a glance at Helen, who was listening intently. I’d have been prepared to let it go at that, but Sarah decided to bat the question back.

“What about you two?” she asked.

“Ah, well,” said Keith, glancing at his wife, “That’s sort-of the reason we asked you over this evening.”

I relaxed suddenly. It seemed so obvious - they were planning to have a kid, or were already having one, and they were going to ask us to be godparents. I was both flattered and vaguely disappointed, but then Keith spoke again.

“You see, it’s rather hard to admit this, but our marriage has kind of run aground. There’s no one thing that’s done it - we’re just a little over familiar, you might say. We’ve been thinking of things that might put us back on track - having a child was one of them.”

Sarah and I stared steadfastly at our glasses - I didn’t need to look to know she was blushing vividly. Like an idiot, I asked the obvious question.

“And, uh, what was the other?”

“Swinging,” said Helen sharply, suddenly. At that, both our heads snapped up.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah shook her head, “Did you just say..?”

“She did,” Keith interjected, taking his wife’s hand. “I realise it’s a bit of a bombshell, but we want to try getting together with other couples, and you two are at the top of our list.”

“Why?” was all I could think to say.

“Well, you’re old friends, you’ve got the most stable relationship we know of, and we think you’re damned attractive people. Are those good enough reasons?”

I swallowed. “I… don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything, yet. Just think about it - we won’t be offended if you turn us down, but give us a fair shake.”

A very awkward silence ensued. I glanced over at Helen, and was convinced she was giving me some sort of ‘come hither’ look. Maybe I was just a bit drunk, but I felt a familiar stirring from my groin. Then I felt something else, completely unexpected - Sarah’s hand dropping lightly onto my knee.

“If we agree,” she said evenly, “How will this work? I mean, are you planning to take me upstairs and shag me while Andy and Helen wait, or will there be adjacent rooms?”

Keith and Helen laughed out loud, which eased the tension a little.

“Okay,” he said, “I’ll admit we have thought about scenarios, but nothing like that. We don’t want there to be any jealousy or possessiveness, so whatever happens involves all four of us equally, or it doesn’t go ahead.”

Sarah’s hand was creeping inexorably up my thigh, and my erection was making my slacks downright uncomfortable. But I still couldn’t quite believe what was being offered.

“Look,” said Keith benignly, “Why don’t we just leave this stuff here, take our drinks through to the lounge and talk about it in comfort?”

As he got up, there was the unmistakeable outline of a hard-on I his trousers - I though I heard Sarah give a little gasp. I stood with some difficulty, my prick tight against my fly as if it was trying to hammer its way out - Helen glanced my way, but she was too cool to say anything, and I was too timid to flaunt myself.

[Alice Bluegown]

Part 2 - After Dinner

Back in the lounge, the ambient music, the soft lighting and the candles all started to make sense. Bloody hell, they’d been trying to seduce us all evening, and we’d been merrily banging on about office politics and DIY. As we settled into armchairs another silence fell, like a cease-fire.

“So,” I eventually blurted, “What happens now?”

“Well,” Keith shrugged, “I suppose now’s the point where we all get naked and start feeling each other up.”

I snickered nervously. It just seemed so absurd - things like this didn’t happen to people like us. And then Helen got to her feet.

“Right,” she announced, “If nobody else is going to start, I might as well be first…”

And just like that, she drew down the zipper of her dress and let it fall in a pool at her feet. Her lingerie was black, lacy and gorgeous - she set about dismantling it in a manner that was not overtly sexual but still almost had me sobbing in appreciation: Helen could look sensual wiring a plug. She unhooked her bra, letting her full breasts hang free, then slid her panties down her long legs. Below her belly button was a perfectly trimmed russet triangle - I tried to swallow, but I couldn’t. Helen looked at me, or, more precisely, my crotch.

“I think Andy likes what he sees,” she purred, and then she was walking over to me, leaning down, slipping her arms around my shoulders and kissing me passionately, her hot tongue forcing into my slack mouth. Right then and there I almost lost it - it would have been the most embarrassing moment of my life.

Helen began to undress me, unpicking buttons like a pro, and I was glad I’d resisted the urge to put on any of my novelty underwear. Off came my shirt: she ran her cool hands over my chest, kissing me all the while. God, she tasted good - crisp as an apple and sweet as sin. Heat and perfume radiated from her body - I raised my hands to touch her breasts, astonished that I could; she smiled and nodded encouragement. As her nipples puckered under my fingertips she reached for my belt, unzipped my fly. I lifted myself a fraction to let her pull off my trousers and boxers in one fell swoop. My cock seemed to leap out, released and eager to play - Helen’s hand went straight to it.

“You want to fuck me, don’t you, Andy?” she whispered, and I decided it was way past time for social niceties.

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you for ten years,” I croaked. She grinned, holding my prick in position as she lowered herself into my lap. I hadn’t even touched her pussy, but she was dripping wet; she sank onto my cock with graceful, hydraulic ease.

To that point it was as if we were the only two people in the room, in the world. But then I was aware of Keith moving, crossing from left to right in my eye line, when I could tear my gaze away from Helen’s perfect body. He held his hand out to Sarah, as if asking for a dance - they fell into each other’s arms ravenously, their lips glued together. As Helen began to grind herself against me, riding me like a more than willing horse, I watched my wife ripping off Keith’s shirt as he wrestled with the buttons of her frock. That familiar, white bra-and-panties set took on a whole new light as Keith roughly detached it from her pale body: she unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down, giving a delighted gasp at what she found. No boxers for Keith, or Y-fronts - maybe nothing could accommodate him. His prick was huge: a thick, meaty monster - I’d have been deeply intimidated if I wasn’t already buried to the hilt in his wife’s velvety pussy.

I watched Sarah sink to her knees, as if in worship. She reached out, stroking the length of him, and he shivered. Then, with no preamble, she eased back his foreskin with her fingertips and took him into her mouth. Being ridden by Helen was too much; watching my wife deep throat my best friend was too much; everything was too much.

“Helen,” I grunted, “Oh God, Helen, I’m gonna come…” It sounded like an admission of defeat.

“It’s OK,” she murmured, “I want you to. Come in me, Andy - come deep and hard…”

So I did. It was as much violent as it was pleasurable, like I was trying to squeeze my insides out through my cock, to flood Helen with my very essence. I don’t know what the hell I said - hopefully, I just moaned incoherently, but in all likelihood I told Helen that I loved her; which I did, right in that moment. Funny how things can change.

By the time I’d collected my senses, and Helen had climbed off me, Keith and Sarah had both made it onto the floor. She had her legs drawn up about his hips and, impossibly, he was fucking her with that monster cock.

“Keith,” she was panting in ecstasy, “God, Keith, you’re so big. You’re stretching me, Keith - you’re filling me so full…”

Keith just grunted, focussed upon his piston stroke, intense and rhythmic as an Olympic swimmer. I watched my wife curl against him, shrieking in orgasm, but he just kept ploughing on, in and out like a metronome, until her face creased in discomfort and had to push him away. She sat up, looking flushed, bewildered and concerned.

“Don’t worry,” Helen grinned, crossing to kneel beside her. “It takes Keith ages to come - he can bang away for hours before something happens; leaves me really sore at times. Did he hurt you?”

Sarah nodded dumbly, still dazed in the afterglow. Helen slipped an arm around her shoulders, and suddenly I realised that my naked wife was in the embrace of another naked woman. My briefly dormant cock suddenly found new life.

Helen kissed Sarah tentatively, and Sarah didn’t pull back. Helen’s hand drifted almost casually between my wife’s legs, gently rubbing.

“There,” she soothed, “Is that better?”

Sarah nodded vaguely, her mouth open, the better to receive Helen’s next, wet kiss. I glanced over at Keith - he was sat on the floor, watching and beaming. Christ, his prick was massive, even semi-erect - I was actually having trouble taking my eyes off it.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Helen was whispering, dragging my attention back to the girls. She was talking to Sarah, not me. “It’s just, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to kiss another woman, to touch another woman…”

Sarah didn’t reply. She didn’t have to: the way she spread her legs to accept Helen’s fingers was answer enough. I had just watched my wife being fucked by another man, now here she was being finger-fucked by a beautiful woman - I’ll admit it, I was never more proud of her as I was at that moment.

[Alice Bluegown]

Part 3 - Sweets & Savouries

“Helen,” Sarah moaned, shyly but enchantingly, “Would you lick my pussy?”

“Of course,” Helen smiled. “Would you lick mine?”

They disported themselves on the floor, like gymnasts, like they’d been practising all their lives. Sarah lay with her legs wide open - Helen slotted on top of her, the other way, her face delving between my wife’s thighs in a shimmer of coppery hair over pale skin. I watched transfixed as Sarah shivered with pleasure, then put her fingers to Helen’s pussy lips, spreading them apart as she lifted her head to lick intently. Creamy fluid seeped from Helen’s quim, dripping onto Sarah’s tongue.

“This looks familiar,” she giggled. “Tastes familiar, too…”

By now my cock was so hard it was almost painful. I stole a lingering glance over at Keith - he too was now fully erect, stroking himself totally unselfconsciously. I plucked up the courage to do the same - it somehow seemed a fitting tribute to the girls. They were oblivious to us now, locked in on each other’s pleasure: Helen’s body began to quiver as Sarah’s tongue speared deep into her pussy; she ground down on my wife’s face and climaxed with surprising delicacy. Moments later Sarah arched and shuddered, her head falling back. Faced flushed and creased in delicious agony, she howled with rapture: my wife, multi-orgasmic for the first time ever.

Slowly the girls disentangled themselves. I heard a deep, percussive sound, and realised that Keith was applauding - I was too awestruck to join in. Helen flashed him a challenging look.

“Well, we’ve entertained you,” she snapped. “Now I think it’s about time you boys entertained us.”

Keith and I froze, looking at each other. To that moment, I don’t think it had actually occurred to either of us, idiots that we were.

“Um, er, I’m not actually gay,” I managed to stammer.

“Neither am I,” Helen smiled wickedly, “But I just fucked your wife.”

Again I looked to Keith, blushing vividly and hoping for backup. But he just grinned, raising an eyebrow.

“She’s right, y’know - it’s only fair.”

My mouth had gone completely dry. His cock drew my gaze once more, like a magnet. My own hard-on hadn’t abated in the slightest - it knew what it wanted, even if I didn’t. On jellied legs I stood up, crossed the carpet as he rose to meet me. I could feel the hot stares of the girls, urging us on. I put my hands on Keith’s chest, he slipped his arm around my waist - our cocks brushed, almost like we fencing. I kissed him then, amazed at how easy it was, how natural it felt: his mouth hot on mine, a faint scrape of bristle against my chin. Tentatively I reached down to touch his cock, hard as rock and still slightly sticky with Sarah’s emissions. I knelt down, as she had, and truly I was worshipping that massive prick - damned if it wasn’t fully deserving. I ran my tongue from the tip of his glans to the fringe of his balls, encountering a surprising sweetness.

“This tastes familiar,” I couldn’t help saying.

“Oh, shut up and get sucking,” Sarah teased.

And I did. As my wife had done before, I pulled back Keith’s foreskin and drew his dick into my mouth - it was silky and salty and felt like it belonged there. I looked up to see Keith’s face enraptured, his eyes closed, his hands at the back of my head, at once steadying himself and drawing me on. I tried to deep-throat him: it wasn’t as easy as it looked, and I struggled to breathe easily and avoid gagging. I realised that I wanted Keith to come in my mouth - there was literally nothing I wanted more. Question was, would he? And would I have the stamina to keep going?

Unbelievably, miraculously, the girls came to my aid. I’ll never know whose idea it was - perhaps both of them. All I knew was that suddenly there was a brush of copper curls slithering between me and Keith, and Helen’s mouth was clamping about my cock. At the same time, I felt the familiar touch of Sarah’s hands on my back, her hot breath sweet at my ear.

“You can do it, Darling,” she whispered. “You can make him come: we’ll make it worth your while.”

She kissed her way down my back, her tongue flickering along my spine. Then I felt a strange, wet tickling between my buttocks, and realised with a surge of astonished joy that my wife - the wife who normally only liked missionary, who I sometimes had to beg to touch, let alone suck, my cock - was licking my arsehole. I would have loved to tell her how grateful I was, but my mouth was full of throbbing gristle.

There we were, like some bizarre love sculpture, all seemingly bent upon giving Keith the ultimate pleasure. But it was not until Sarah slid a slim, moistened finger into my rectum - fucking me in a way I had long fantasised about fucking her, making me moan like a banshee - that I realised what I had to do. I guided my own finger up into Keith’s butt crack, already lubed with sweat and Sarah: finding his little hole I pressed home, feeling the sphincter tensing against me; feeling his whole body quiver and sag. It was too much for me: I felt my own arsehole tighten around Sarah’s intruding finger, and I pumped wildly into Helen’s hotly eager mouth. Then, without warning, Keith gave a howl and exploded into my mouth. It was like turning on a faucet: thick, salty cream squirting endlessly; no way I could swallow it, or do anything other than let it fly in all directions, splattering over my face, over him, over Helen’s hair, all over the carpet.

Keith collapsed to the floor like someone had just doubled him up. We all just lay there, in a panting, sweaty, sticky heap; the room about us now a maelstrom of burnt-out candles, discarded clothing and random globules of come - idly I wondered if we should offer something towards the carpet cleaning bill.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Keith sighed, looking dreamily over at me.

“I can’t believe it, either,” I replied, honestly. “But I’m glad I did.”

“Seems to me our Andy gets the prize,” said Helen, sitting up with a smile. She looked a beautiful mess, her hair frizzed out and streaked with long, drying strands of jism. Droplets of sperm glistened on her chin, and I realised with a jolt that they were mine - I was still having trouble processing the fact that this goddess had let me come in her, twice. Pussy and mouth: only one place left to try, and I found myself seriously wondering if she’d be up for it (assuming I could still rise to the occasion). As it turned out, she had something a bit different in mind. She nudged her husband, who seemed on the verge of falling asleep.

“I think you really ought to give Andy a reward for getting you off,” she said. He looked at her quizzically, and her grin was pure evil. “I think you ought to let him fuck you in the arse.”

I’ll admit it - I actually blanched at this suggestion. I mean, sucking Keith off seemed one thing, but this - this was genuinely, intimately gay. My thoughts didn’t make any sense, of course - after all, hadn’t I just watched Helen and my wife 69? Wasn’t that supposed to be the ultimate lesbian act? Was Sarah gay, now?

[Alice Bluegown]

Part 4: The Consequences

“I don’t think I could,” I blurted. “I mean, I’m really spent - I don’t think I could get it up.”

“Oh, we’ll help you with that,” said Sarah, wearing an expression I’d never seen before - a harlot’s leer. “D’you think it would help you get in the mood if I let Helen fuck me in the arse?”

How the hell do you answer a question like that?

“You really want this?” I breathed.

“Yes, Darling - I want to watch you fucking Keith’s arse. God, just the thought is making me so wet…”

And she reached down between her legs, rubbing herself with a faint purr, then touched her fingers to my flaccid cock, coating it with her syrupy efflux. In spite of everything it twitched appreciatively, began to stir. She rolled away from me, lay on her back, hooking her hands behind her knees and pulling her legs up so that her pussy and arsehole were flagrantly exposed. It was a pose straight from a porn film, yet as far as I knew Sarah had never seen one.

“Do it,” she whispered to Helen, “Fuck my arse…”

Keith and I watched entranced as Helen dove voraciously between Sarah’s thighs. Ostentatiously, she began to lick my wife’s arsehole, Sarah shivering in appreciation. Delicate, peripheral laps steadily gave way to deep driving thrusts with her tongue, as Helen shed whatever was left of her inhibitions. The spectacle was both beautiful and strangely unsettling - hard to absorb that these two porn sluts were our own respectable, middle-class spouses. Not that my cock cared: it was, unbelievably, rock hard again.

By now Helen had returned her oral attentions to Sarah’s pussy, licking her out like there was no tomorrow. At the same time, she introduced one perfectly-manicured finger into my wife’s bottom, sliding it slowly knuckle-deep. Sarah literally convulsed with pleasure - I could see her tummy muscles rippling as she sobbed with joy.

“Oh God, that’s so good!” she wailed. “You’re fucking me, Helen… you’re making me come… oh, fuck!”

Her climax was intense as a thunderstorm, left her limp and quivering in the aftermath. I was still watching dazedly when Keith nudged my arm.

“Our turn, I think, Old Mate.”

And before I could reply he was on all fours, his erect tool pointed towards the floor, his tight little bum provocatively raised. Even then I was still trying to tell myself I didn’t want this, but my cock was throbbing almost agonisingly.

“You sure you want me to do this?”

“Just get on with it,” he rasped, “Before I lose my nerve.”

I leaned forward, dribbled copious amounts of spit into his butt crack (I couldn’t quite bring myself to lick his arsehole, not then at any rate). He obligingly reached back to open his cheeks as I positioned myself over and behind him. I was dimly aware of the girls watching us with aroused fascination, but essentially the world had contracted to me and Keith. Even stretched and glistening, his tiny hole seemed impossible to accommodate even my modest prick. Nevertheless, I placed the tip of myself against it, and began to slowly push. There was a pulse of resistance, an involuntarily clenching to keep me out; and then just as suddenly, like the opening of a camera shutter, I felt him give, and I slid gently but firmly into his body. God, it felt so good: my prick was being clamped, milked; it was like being sucked off by some incredibly powerful vacuum. I moaned, Keith moaned; sweat poured from me as I rested across his back and shoulders, my cock buried balls-deep in his pliant rectum.

“Am I hurting you?” I managed to pant.

“No,” he gasped, “No, it feels good. Jesus, Andy, I like being fucked… I like having you fuck me.”

From somewhere I heard the siren song of Helen, deep in the throes of orgasm. I had no idea what Sarah was doing to her, and frankly at that moment I didn’t care. I began to pump slowly in and out of Keith, relishing the way his bodily greedily clutched at every inch of me. Even after two orgasms, it wasn’t long before I felt the familiar fluttering in my belly, in my balls.

“Keith,” I shouted, “Oh, Keith it’s - oh fuck, I’m coming…”

There was so much more I wanted to say, but I couldn’t, not then. I buried myself deep in him one last time, and let fly. As a titanic climax pounded through me, I reached down and around, grasping his mighty tool and jerking his foreskin so hard it was almost an act of violence - but, oh boy, it worked. His body shuddered, he gave a wolfish howl and discharged a huge gob of creamy sperm that splattered into the much-abused carpet. Still conjoined, we collapsed into a pool of sticky goo, alongside the radiating forms of Helen and Sarah, themselves damp and scented with uninhibited female sexuality.

We slept then, all four of us, there on the floor. I came awake to find Sarah wrapped in my arms, while nearby Keith and Helen were fucking tenderly on the sofa. I don’t know if either of them came - the sound of his balls slapping against her, their rhythmic grunts, was strangely soothing, and I drifted back into sleep. Later still, Sarah and I both woke, and with an unspoken agreement gathered our things, dressed silently and slipped out of the house, leaving the other couple still entwined and unconscious.

Dawn was just breaking as we drove home, and as the sun crept blood-red over the horizon we pulled into a lay-by, tipped back the front seats and fucked in the car like we were teenagers again. But even as we did it, we knew we had crossed a Rubicon, and nothing could ever be quite the same again.

The next Monday Keith called me up at work - just the sound of his voice gave me an erection. I asked after Helen, discreetly thanked him for everything. He invited me to his exclusive fitness club for lunch and a game of squash - the club was superb, the food excellent, but I never got to see the squash court. All I really remember is the private changing room, where Keith finally slid that massive dick into my lubed, willing arsehole, and I climaxed all over a stack of crisp, fresh towels.

When I got home that evening, Sarah casually informed me that she and Helen had been out on an impromptu shopping trip. Her face was still glowing from sex, and I pictured them, sneaking into dressing-rooms together. Just the idea got me hard, and without another word we went upstairs and fucked vigorously. But there was in ineffable sadness to our screwing - as sense, even as were so physically close, that we were letting go.

We lasted a whole month before Sarah finally broke down and confessed she was in love with Helen. I didn’t tell her I’d been seeing - or more precisely shagging - Keith almost every day: that all came out later. I eventually moved out to join Keith at his house while Helen moved in the opposite direction - I don‘t entirely recall how it panned out that way. It would have been around that time Helen discovered she was pregnant - neither Keith nor I knows who is the father, and we have no intention of finding out. The kid will have two mums and two dads, which is more than most, and ought to give it a good start in life.

Keith and I have worked hard to remove almost all feminine influences from the big house - it just doesn’t seem relevant, anymore. But every so often the girls come over: we’ll have a meal, drink some wine; occasionally there’ll be sex on both gay and straight varieties, for old times’ sake. But it can never be quite like it was that night - the night we all learned so much about each other, and more importantly, about ourselves.

- END -

[April]

Hot little tale Alice, thank you for writing and sharing it with us :)

[luvrof69]

Can you say WET?

[actionmaster6]

Hot story. Well written with a nice build.

[Marlene38EE]

Can you say WET?

How's about dribbling, sopping-soaked & rubber-kneed!!
GOOD story!!

[Joker1235]

That was a great story thank you very much.

[sexymeg]

Great story, I loved it