”“Why don’t you call him?” Callie asked, a reasonable question.“I don’t want him on alert. There!” I pointed at a mid-thirties man, well...dressed, short brown hair well coifed, clean-shaven. Russell Kirk. Officially Press Officer for the Embassy. Unofficially, the Paris CIA liaison.Starting the car, we eased back into the traffic, heading away.Forty-some minutes later we were parked in a residential street. Eventually, Russell appeared walking along the sidewalk as if he didn’t have a care in. ” she said sleepily. I crawled over and kissed her so she could taste how delicious her pussy is. We had a good day seeing the sights of the city (my conference was over) until her husband Tim came home in the evening. We had burgers and drinks on the deck overlooking the lake and Amy recounted our going to Ellen and Chucks for the orgy and how we hooked up in the dark room for kissy-face and pressy-bod, and also for some sucking and fucking. She told him how excited Ellen was watching two. More

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