In there, they were regaled with the outlandish stories of what had happened at Harrison's ranch the previous night. People were practically agog over...the way he had been found with the hatchet buried in his chest. It seemed that nobody knew who had done the deed, but everybody had a different theory about the how and why of it. Whatever and whoever were the cause of the murder, nobody connected Annie/Jack and Bill with the deed. Jack seemed to be numb to all the conjecture, but Bill was. She certainly had seen it on video, either man and a woman or two women. I went along with her lack of knowledge. “Just lay on the bed on your side” I told her. Then I laid down in the opposite directing. “Open your legs darling” I said to her and pushed my face into her crotch and began to probe her pussy with my tongue. She moaned and then began to suck my cock. Yes, she knew what it was alright. Her moans were stifled by my cock in her mouth. Mine were stifled by her crutch and her very wet. One of the games we have developed over the years happens on mornings like these, where she treats me as a patient, telling me it's time for my therapy. Sarah reaches out and unbuttons my pajamas, starting a slow and sensual rub of my body. She treats me like one of her patients, explaining just what she is about to do. "Good Morning, Mr. Smith, it's time for you to get up." or "Mr. Smith, it's time to for your rub."I'm always Mr. Smith on these occasions, and she is always "Nurse Jones". I. We lean forward, exchange kisses and I place my honey-covered finger into my mouth. While savoring this heavenly taste, my eyes close, as no dessert was ever this sweet. The traffic starts to move. After a couple of miles, Ursala starts to stir. You point out our lakeside cottage to her as we pass. She says her home is only five minutes away. Arriving at her rustic large house she invites us in but we decline due to the time and promise to stop by the following afternoon. We wait until she is.
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