Inga remained on the floor, leaning back on her elbows, her legs spread with panties stretched below her knees. So small, and so tight, I bet. No! Ing... doesn't get fucked. "You can clean up and have the rest of the afternoon to yourself." I moved to the door. I heard footsteps behind me."Wait." As I turned, Inga threw herself at me. I kept my hands at my sides, although my instinct was to grab on. Her hands circled my neck and she kissed me. Not a friendly kiss, but a firm, passionate,. Obviously, she liked it and was planning for future breakfasts.“Your Grace, what do you call this again?”“In my country, it goes by many different names, western omelet, Denver omelet, and others. I’ve usually heard it called a country omelet. It’s really not special to any area of my country.” I smiled. “The word, country, usually applies to rural areas in the context of its use here.” She nodded in understanding.I continued, “Other vegetables and seasonings can be added. I have seen chilies. More

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