To turn over. David's orgasm wasn't far behind, and when Linda knew he was about ready, she wrapped both of her legs around his waist, and pulled him into her as deeply as she could, bites forcing him to dump his load deep inside her. They lay there entangled for a few minutes until their breathing returned to normal. When David finally stood up , I saw a river of his cum leak out of my wife's cunt; it ran down the crack of her ass, and formed a long, white string as it dripped onto the floor. Linda, still holding her legs wide, looked at me and said, "Sloppy seconds anyone?" She looked fantastic! I literally ran over to the couch and buried my own cock in her dripping hole and screwed her for all I was worth. We all slept in the same bed that night, Linda in between
David and myself. I was the first to awaken the next morning, so I tiptoed bites out of the room and went into the kitchen to make some coffee. After I filled the pot with water bites and grounds, and put it on the stove, I went outside to use the outhouse. When I came back in, I heard the bed squeaking, so went to the bedroom door to watch. David was on his back, and Linda was on top of him, doing deep knee bends on his rigid tool. She saw me at the door and smiled. "Mind if I join you?" I asked, then walked up behind my wife's pretty butt and started to rub the head of my dick against her puckered ass hole. I worked myself into her slowly, until she got used to me, then started to pump in unison with David; as he came out, I
Slid in, and vice versa. It only took about three minutes before Linda's body started to shake. She started squirming around, and squealing each time one of us entered her. Knowing she was about to bites erupt, David and I both buried our hard cocks into our respective holes at the same time, and all three of us came in one huge orgasm. We bid David farewell a short time later. Although we never saw him again, he left us with some very special memories that we'll never forget. (Copyright 1997, Manuscript Publishing Company) I When the �phone rang, I knew that it must be a wrong number. I�d only moved in three days prior and the telephones had been hooked up only that day. I almost didn�t answer it but thought better of that idea since I was bored and had always enjoyed wrong numbers bites in a perverse way that
Only family members and close friends had grown accustomed to. As a child, I�d watched as my Dad would handle wrong numbers with a variety of ploys. His favorite was to simply respond with,...
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