With him on his "business" trips. After a while I didn't even care.I had got too used to our big house on a posh road.I liked my 4x4 and frequent holidays in the villa in Nice that we owned.I wasn't losing all that.I probably still loved him anyway.The big lump.But I was bored.So I started flirting a bit with Jack.Never letting Mark see.I always wore low tops.I have great tits.Mark paid 10 grand for them a few years back,lol. He loved me showing them off.Loved men wanting me.So when Jack was over for beer nights, I always got him his refills,and I bent over at every opportunity.He always got an eyefull of my 36dd's. I always pretended not to notice him watching.I would brush past him if I could.And he always responded down below. I always struggled not to laugh when he was so noticeably hard.And the more I did it.The more I wanted him.The times he was over for beer we always hugged hello.And when he left,he always pecked me on the cheek.But recently, I always turned for a kiss on the. ” Those were such lush tits.Angela sheathed her blade and nodded. She walked to it, her ass wiggling, the thin strip of chainmail loincloth swaying, showing flashes of her butt-crack. Red hair bounced. She kicked the half-rotted door apart, her blue eyes flashing as she gave me a look over her shoulder.I grunted, setting down my ax and following. I sneezed once, my cock throbbing harder and harder. Damned dust was trying to ruin my excitement. My dick tented the front of my kilt, a large shaft aching to feel those tits.I ducked through the door. I was taller than the builders. A long room, one end of the ceiling collapsed and forming a pile or rubble. The vines grew in here, too, broad leaves spread wide, the occasional flower open in shafts of sunlight, slender beams shining through tiny holes in the remaining ceiling. They dappled Angela’s body as she turned, her loincloth swinging over her pubic mound and between those lush thighs.“I think I found it,” Angela purred as I walked to.
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