When she stood back up and faced me, her eyes dropped to my hand between my legs. “Do you mind?” I asked. “That’s not going too far, I suppose...” she answered while dropping her skirt in the basket. Then she slipped her thumbs beneath the cotton of her panties. I took in a slow breath as she pushed them down. A thin line of hair emerged, culminating in a downward pointing triangle. I certainly didn’t need the arrow to draw my attention. The cotton continued its journey past her thighs, and down. "How was it dear?" Phillippa asked, looking up from the television."You must have heard, sweetheart. Maurice doesn't half squeak when you prod him. And there's a man whose rear passage you could drive a train through!" He laughed indulgently. "I think we've got the whole thing in the bag, Phil. We'll be signing the contract tomorrow!" That's fucking magic!" cried Phillippa, jumping up off the sofa and over to her husband to kiss him on the cheek. "Do you want to celebrate?" she asked giving his. More

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