Looking around the room, he noticed the lounge chair and ottoman next to a mirror mounted to the wall. He let her continue for a bit, then pulled her ...pright."Come over here."He moved next to the ottoman, in front of the mirror. This way he could watch, too. He pointed at the cushion."Sit."She sat, immediately returned to blowing him. She was bobbing her head now, back and forth. Slurping noises filled the room. He noticed she kept glancing at her reflection. Before too long, she slipped a hand. " There's probably an undertow. The waves come in high, the water goes back out low." You got a better plan?" Let's get rested, OK?" OK. In the meantime, watch for boats."Of course, there were no boats. No one wanted to risk going on the water with the skies still dark. So after waiting fifteen or twenty minutes, we headed carefully toward the shore.I'm not going to tell you it was easy or a sure thing, because it wasn't. We were fortunate not to encounter an undertow. At one point I got a. The second guy came in her mouth, the creamy evidence for the camera, then she swallowed and showed her empty mouth again.Within five minutes, the guy fucking her groaned as his cock filled her pussy. He pulled out, she smiled to the camera, her hand spreading the fresh load over her pussy and tits. She had a moment to recover then another guy took his turn with her.“What a slut!” Roger said.“Thank you, honey, I’m a happily married slut.”The video now showed them outdoors in a park with Sandra. It wasn’t that he didn’t like galleries, either. He and Paige had met in an art gallery – The Met, in fact. No… the fact was, he was dreading this opening, at this gallery, this night. There was something about the artist that Jack just didn’t like. Something about the way his voice could be lilting one moment, then rough as a lumberjack the next. Something about the familiar way he treated Paige. She denied ever having any kind of involvement with the artist – said she barely even knew him..
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