" Bob. Call me, Bob, Gwen. Yes, I'd like something. Glass of water will be fine." We have some beer..." Gwen blushed and wiped her hands on her apron...."I mean... I have some beer or gin if you'd like a drink." Well... sure, how about a Collins?" Bob asked, smiling at her. "Sybil?" he asked, addressing his wife."Fine. But don't go to any trouble." No trouble. No trouble at all," Gwen called over her shoulder as she scurried to the kitchen to make the drinks."Prime," Bob whispered to his wife.. Tom’s hands were up against her butt and his face was up against the front of her underwear, with his wrists and neck connected by the fiddle that ran between her legs. “I don’t seem to be able to go any higher,” Tom observed, gently pushing the fiddle up into her crotch. “Mmm, it feels nice when you try though.” “Why do people always end up in this position, unable to move with their face up against your panties?” “People?” Hannah questioned, “It’s only you who ends up in this predicament.”. More

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