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’Now what,’ Joe thinks. ‘Is she really going to give me a present after all this?’ he wonders.The girl in the studded underwear then reaches into a drawer and pulls out a large black rubber penis and straps it onto her leather panties."Here I come, honey, with your present!" Yikes! Help!" shouts Joe.An hour later Joe returns to the car. Pete is at the wheel half-asleep. Joe gets in the car and slams the door shut."Did you get laid?" Pete asks groggily."I don't want to talk about it," Joe says in a serious tone. "I don't think I'm cut out for the pizza business." OK, we'll go back home."The next night Pete and Joe are in their usual positions on the sofa in front of the TV. There is a documentary on about prison life."Man, you think we have it rough, it could always be worse," Pete says."Yeah, I'll say," Joe adds.The documentary starts to talk about women's prisons. There is an interview with a couple of women prisoners discussing the hardships."Pete, I got it!" Joe shouts excitedly,. Eat. fuck, watch TV, fuck outside. This day was special. She was walking around the house with boxer shorts on but no panties, and a wife beater no bra with her beautiful pink nipples showing through. Flashing her under smile to me every so often. Making sure I could see she was anticipating what was about to happen. She was so wet today. I could only wait so long before I pounced on her. I lead her to the bedroom. We ripped off the sheets. I grabbed the back of her head and shoved my tongue as far down her throat as I could. I could feel her hips leaning forward, aching for attention. I slid my hand down between her legs and cupped her soaking wet pussy. I couldn't believe it, she had never been this wet. I threw her down on the bed. I ripped her shorts down, without a second going by I grabbed her hips and lurched inside her with my tongue, so deep my nose was rubbing all over her clitoris. Just as quick as I started, I stopped.I grabbed the baby oil out of the bathroom. Starting.
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We can talk; get to know each other better."He congratulated himself on saying just the right thing in the moment. It wasn't easy. It had been years since deciphering the feelings of a woman had been up to him, and he'd considered himself to have done so with great aplomb."It's because I'm too old," she retorted at once. "You don't want to because of that."She didn't say it in an angry voice, but in one that was rather soft and sad. It was more a statement of fact than an accusation. She said it as though she was informing him of something he needed to understand. It caught Bert off-guard. He felt that she was hurt and it was his fault. As he recanted his earlier self-congratulations, she spoke again."You're no younger than me, Bert."There it was; finally, he felt he understood what was on her mind. First, was the confession of self-doubt followed by the preemptive counterattack-in-advance—a sharing of insecurity"I know how old I am," he thought. "I'm old enough to know better."With.

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