She is obviously upset. Two of her tires are resting on our finely manicured lawn, the yard she spends endless hours each month sculpting to perfectio.... “She must really be pissed,” I think as I turn the key and open the door. As I walk from the entryway to the living room towards the hallway, the faint sound of my Chrissy’s crying grows more pronounced. She seems startled as I walk in the bedroom and walk over to the bed where she is lying. “I am sorry honey, it just happened,” I begin as I. She leaned her head forward, licking clean the object of her affection. With some calm restored, it was time for quid pro quo. He grabbed her collar and tossed her to the floor, hauling her neck back by the silver leash until she was kneeling between his legs. She hurriedly opened his jog spurs and passionately kissed his heavy meat. Her head bobbed in a smooth rhythm as her lips glided up and down the fat shaft, tongue whipping on the knob during occasional pauses. Ian sensed his oncoming. More

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