She could wash it off as soon as he recovered enough to admire her cum-spattered face.A top-heavy blonde jogged past her toward the dugout, giving her...pause. Carrie had never seen the girl before. Probably Keith, she thought. The girl looked like exactly the sort of vapid bimbo he usually hooked up with. Carrie rolled her eyes and continued on.Greg climbed out of the dugout with a scowl on his face. She smiled at him, hoping to begin the process of cheering him up. The last thing she expected. ”“MOTHER!”“No, Mom. Look, hang on a second...” She placed the phone against her shoulder and, clearly exasperated with her mother, blurted, “Do you want to come home with me for Thanksgiving?”I was a bit taken aback for a moment, but managed to stammer out, “Uh ... sure. I ... I should be able to get the time off.”She returned to her conversation. “Okay, yes, we’ll both be there.”“Oh, thank you! That’s so nice of you!”“Yeah, I’ll e-mail you all the information you’ll need.”Just then there was a. . yup, I was right. Weren't lost, so they were runnin'."You're kidding, right? No gas? How the fuck are we supposed to get out of here?"She was blond, a neck that pulled your eyes to her tits and her voice was 'gimme' nails on an 'I-want-it-now' chalkboard. Her feet stomped the ground like a bull announcin' it was runnin' time."Allie, if there's no gas, there's no gas." Brunette, walking forward to shake my hand, movin' smooth, remindin' me of a sidewinder slitherin' across a dune, indirect but. It felt naughtier that way. Fingers opened her sex, fingers were touching her thighs urging her open wider, lifting her knees and spreading them like a gyn exam, her heels on the mattress. A finger entered her, first one, then two. Susan lifted her hands to her breasts. A wet finger was placed on her asshole. She knew to keep relaxed but her heart beat faster.Was it Joe? Was it Mark?In fact it was Joe. Mark had two fingers in his wife's pussy, thrusting slowly in and out. Joe remembered it was.
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