The afternoon began well enough with drinks on the lawn and a fine buffet, I was wearing a summer dress with a halter neck that really flattered me in...every way. The wine was flowing and everyone was having a great time, all of a sudden a voice from behind me said, " wow, she ha got some body on her , just look at that arse, and I bet she is not wearing any knickers either" , I turned round to see the area manager and my boss admiring the view," well Im sorry to dissapoint you guys but I am. Had I based my expectations solely on the merit of what I'd been led to believe, brutal torture would have been the order of the day, instead of a lavish, gourmet banquet that seemed impossibly exceptional by any standards. It was indeed far better than the usual all-you-can-eat buffet, and definitely a lot more satisfying than Jules' sandwich.Bartholomew had laid out everything on a solid, definitely antique wooden table with experienced precision and unusual alacrity and grace, not to be. He said he wanted to taste my cum, so we met at 2 o’clock on a sunny Saturday afternoon in a warehouse west of Corvallis. Brad is a few years younger than me, with a scruffy gray beard on his face and an English accent. He’s about my height—5’10”, slim and friendly. His lips are full and his mouth is fuckable. He drives a shiny dark blue BMW motorcycle, and when we first met was dressed in a black canvas motorcycle outfit and a white helmet. That was yesterday when he drove by my house on his. But Kathleen had told me she loved horses and rode every chance she got; so there we were at a stable. The horse guy, I think he's called a wrangler, asked about our level of riding skill. Kathleen was considered an accomplished rider; I'm more of a sit on the horse and try not to fall off type.The horse they put me on had three speeds; slow, slower, and slowest. No matter what I did he walked at the same speed. Kathleen was on a spirited animal that like to run and prance but she controlled.
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