Spit High Quality Sex Pics

A conspiratorial plan to catch his wife red-handed.


Eliza smiled as she stirred the ground-up pills into the puttanesca sauce. Initially, she'd tried chopping them up with a kitchen knife but that proved too tricky and she'd nearly lost one of the precious pills under the fridge. After some trial-and-error, she'd resorted to using an old pestle and mortar, eventually managing to grind them up into a fine grey powder. As the sauce was for her and her guest, she'd used two of the little black pills, hoping that the cooking process wouldn't alter their chemical balance.

Her neighbour, Brett, had been over for dinner several times before. At thirty, he was divorced and a few years younger than her, boyishly good-looking with caramel-coloured skin that belied his mixed race parentage. Eliza sometimes found herself staring at him when he was mowing the lawn or washing his car, wondering if his skin had the same even cappuccino tone all over.

Although he'd been over to dinner several times, he'd never spent the night, in fact they'd never done anything more than share a chaste kiss at the end of the evening. He was quite shy and quiet, and Eliza was beginning to wonder if she should take the initiative. After all, at thirty-four she was still attractive, wasn't she?

She glanced at her watch then skipped up the stairs, tugging her old t-shirt up over her head. She pondered her strategy for the evening as she wriggled out of her jeans, revealing her best underwear then stepped into a fitting bottle green dress that hugged her curvy figure. It was one of her most daring dresses, revealing quite a lot of her cleavage, and she hoped that it would send Brett an unambiguous message about her availability. She smiled, blowing a kiss to her reflection as she touched up her crimson lipstick. As the doorbell rang, she took a final look at herself in the mirror, ran a hand through her fiery red tresses and skipped back downstairs.


"So, um, thanks for inviting me over" Brett said, between forkfuls of the pasta.

"My pleasure. It just seems silly, you and I both rattling around in our houses, eating dinners for one in front of the TV."

"Yeah, you're right, I'm not much of a cook so this is the best meal I've had in ages, it's delicious."

"Thanks, more wine?" Eliza asked, getting to her feet and bending forward over the table, filling his glass with more Chianti before he had a chance to answer.

"I really shouldn't... but thanks, it really is very good," he said, and Eliza noted the way his dark hazel eyes flicked downwards as her full boobs strained against her tight dress.

"I'll get another bottle," she said skipping off to the kitchen.

She paused in the kitchen, weighing the fresh bottle in her hands as she puzzled over his attitude once more. He was obviously attracted to her, but she already sensed that this was shaping up to be another evening of pleasant conversation but ultimately, disappointment. He really was very polite and reserved, and she wondered if it wasn't just shyness that was holding him back. Perhaps I need to be a bit more assertive she concluded as she headed back.

"Is it hot in here, or is it just me?" he asked, placing his fork in the empty bowl as he finished his pasta.

"No, I don't feel hot. I could open a window," Eliza replied. Outside, it was getting dark now, the amber streetlights glowing against a magenta sky.

"No, no, please, I don't want to make a fuss," he said, tugging at the collar of his stylish grey shirt.

"Are you sure?" she said.

"Yeah, I'm just feeling a little hot and dizzy."

"Why don't you lie down for a bit?" she said, gesturing towards the sofa.

"Oh no, I couldn't impose. Maybe I should just go home," he said.

"Oh, I'm not letting you go in this state! Come on, lie down over here," Eliza said. "I'll get you a glass of water."

"Well, if you insist.

Top Categories