FreeDid a husband make a horrible mistake? Sex Pics

A man of the cloth faces temptation.


Chuckling, he spun the wheel. 'I've got your number. You do know that?'

We slid past the pumps and around behind the adjoining convenience store. Smiling to show I wasn't concerned -- which I wasn't, not overly -- I nodded. After all, he'd been upset by the idea of his best friends catching a glimpse. So he was going to show me off to strangers? Not likely.

'You don't think so?' he glanced at me, eyes twinkling. We were coming out the far side of the service station, moving toward the main road again.

'Of course. You're in charge. It's your whip-hand, so to speak.' Guys?! Really. When I got him home, and finished bonking him silly...Someone groaned. Realizing it was me, I sat up straight -- moved my hand, removed my fingers actually -- and they came out with the soft delightful "plop" -- just letting them brush across my pubes slowly. Couldn't go having a spasm now, could I? That would make him full of himself! Had he noticed?

Pulling up to wait for a break in the traffic, he said: 'Speaking of which. How about a second sidebet?'

'Shoot.' A perfectly acceptable break in the traffic went begging. But I was onto his game -- as I said. Not about to be unnerved.

'If you, umh?-mess my upholstery-I get to whip your tush as well shave your pussy?'

I settled back on the seat once more, forced my hand to remain perfectly still: cupping my twat, warming it. As if it needed warming!? I had a riding crop in the closet, hanging there. From when I was a child and used to ride regularly. God, but I used to love that -- having a great huge powerful animal between my thighs, rubbing against the saddle: back-and-forth, back-and-forth...Give your head a shake, kid. Stick with the plot! We'd had it out once or twice-- the crop, that is -- flicked it at one another. I'd once caught him rather more sharply, leaving a livid red line across his full tight muscular tush for several days. He had a gorgeous tush. Everyone I knew stared at it. For that matter he was hung like a horse as well... Swallowing, hard, I said: 'Or not?-if I don't like? "Mess" the upholstery, that is.'

'Got it in one.'

Well, you could kiss that bet good-bye already. I could feel the dampness down there now, with my fingertips.

He seemed to be looking past me, grinning.

A number of pedestrians, teenagers of both genders, were coming along the sidewalk. Directly at us. From my side. He let the car roll forward to block the sidewalk. The teens were close now, one of the girls staring -- wide-eyed. In a second they'd be right on top of us. Of me. Then they'd all notice. If the girl didn't tell her friends even sooner. Just as he started to raise a hand to point out their approach, I spun back to him. 'Okay-okay.'

'Do we need to specify?' he asked, all butter-wouldn't-melt.

'No.' I mopped my forehead with my free hand, not wanting to risk a glance toward the teenagers. 'Any orgasm and you win.'

'Oh no,' he shook his head slowly, grinning. 'Orgasms are a different thing entirely. Mess the upholstery and I crop your lovely butt. Have an orgasm and, umh...let me think about that one. But if you're damp down there, which I suspect you are, knowing you you're looking at six strokes.'

Six? Six?! My butt muscles tautened at the very thought. 'Three.'


'You bastard! That's...That's...'

He pointed past me, out the side window. As if I didn't know. The kids were right there, certainly within earshot. "Jesus, she's starkers!"... "Nice tits!"..."Get away," from one of the girls, "she's ancient"... Ancient?! Me?! 26 is not ancient you little bitch!..."Yeah, look -- her tits are starting to sag"...From the other little bitch, of course. Kids today need their butts... Speaking of which..."Look!" An excited male face loomed out of the corner of my eye. "She's doing herself! She is! She's doing herself right here!"... The heat on my cheeks was now roughly equivalent to that of my twat. Turning to my left, I muttered: 'Okay-okay, six.'

'Nope. Ten.'