He was 40-years-old, and he was in her thrall.Mistress Camille was a stunning, honey blonde of 45, and she had married him not only for his money, but...also for his body and his large, but not overly gross, prick. He was absolutely crazy about her, and for outsiders looking in, it was easy to see why.She was tallish – not his six feet two inches, but not far short of it. In fact, in her high heels, their eyes were level. She had large breasts, heavy even, with large, thick nipples and those. When I turned around, she was right behind me. Her arms wrapped around me and I stiffened. ‘Shhhhh,’ she said softly. ‘I don’t want you to hurt. I wish I could take away the pain.’ I cried and laughed at the same time. ‘Nothing can take away the pain. Not even sleeping with you.’ I could see tears in her eyes and she smiled. ‘No, not even sex can take away the pain of losing someone.’ She held me close and my throat closed up. I don’t know how long I cried on her shoulder. I felt like Sharon. More

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