It frees me to sort out my thoughts. To focus. Let my subconscious work on things.I looked off into the middle distance, not really seeing the cemeter.... But remembering Hank’s funeral. That sunny day, all that law enforcement presence.I smiled to myself as a half-recalled image of Emile Chanson swam to the surface. How he stood at solemn attention at the graveside. Black Homburg held over his heart for a moment. Then he about-faced and slow-marched at a stately 88 steps per minute over to. She was however, making no objections so far.I gobbled greedily on his softening member, taking it fully into my mouth and working my tongue over it as I had done previously. I could tell he was pleased that I was doing as he ordered and from the corner of my eye I could see a self-satisfied smile forming on my wife's face as she looked over her shoulder. This cock had been buried deep in my wife's arsehole seconds before and bore the evidence of that but yet I still licked at it. More

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