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I could smell the sweet, memorable odor on my fingers, and desperate to taste some, I slid my wife over and moved myself to the floor. As I stuck my tongue as far as I could into her pussy, she convulsed in her chair, bucking her hips wildly.
I spread her legs further, and thrust my head in between them. I continued to tongue-fuck my Emily, alternating between her wet hole and her flushed clit.
Obviously, with this firm stance, a quickie with the painter upstairs was out of the question. I stuffed them behind me on the chair, ensuring that if the painter did come down, he wouldn’t see her delicates strewn about the floor.After leading him upstairs, Emily returned to the den to join me, sitting on my lap as I looked over some business reports.