I closed my eyes, I was again embarrassed. I put my hands to my side and stood there. The guys all went wild. “Oh yes, awesome tits, nice nipples, l...cky guy Bob to play with those”. I was enjoying their comments and relaxing a little. Then I heard one guy say: “Damn! I wish my wife had tits like hers” and then “me also”. I opened my eyes. I knew all their wives and wanted to see who had made that comment. This in a woman kind of way turned me on a little. There were lots of other remarks, and I. Next up, in a geological manner of speaking, is sandstone ... digging into the sand was mostly digging under it and breaking off the unsupported top. Since there were no glass windows in the window-holes, I folded back the shutters and pitched everything out on the veranda.I did discover the reason for the two rooms.They were there for the retail displays. Hoes, scoop shovels, pointed shovels, three tined pitchforks, push brooms and sweepers, axes, hatchets, mattocks, all manner of saws .... He filled her, his bulky tool stretching the spongy folds of her vagina. She moaned, squeezing down around him. She squeezed, making herself as tight as possible for him, giving him as much pleasure as she could."Yesss," she whispered. "God, yes!"His hips jerked up, his fat rod slithering from the molten recesses of her cunt. She quivered, anticipating the lunging stroke that would drive him back into her.Down he slammed into her. Deeply his manhood sliced into the liquid warmth of her. Their eyes met. And suddenly the conversation was over.Hand in hand, they walked side by side toward the staircase, toward the second level of Arlene's home, toward the unmade bed where each of them would experience, for the first time ever, though neither would learn that fact about the other until hours later, in that post-coital, post-orgasmic moment of confession, the taste, the scent, the wetness and beauty of another woman's loins. And perhaps the addictive attraction thereof.Neither was.
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