“More,” I demanded. He laughed a bit, low so I couldn’t hear him very well. He obviously didn’t want me to know who he was. At this point, I ...m not so sure it is my husband. The scent from the shirt is slowly making its way to my brain. The shirt smells delicious, but not wholly familiar as my husband's scent should be. Then he was finger fucking me with two fingers, slowly. I moan in pleasure. “More, faster,” I asked with a moan. He pushes three fingers inside, slowly at first with an. Wait. Nine? My mind had jumped to the number before my brain had caught up. Kneeling behind the bed—apparently up on a chair to get the right height—Wendy, our waitress from Carmine’s was offering a bunch of grapes to Kate, who was stretched out luxuriously on the bed. On either side, Lissa and Allison were poised, ready to serve, one with a ewer and one with a tray of bread and cheese.Melody and Bree were positioned on pillows in front of the bed with their legs curled under them, looking at. More

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