”“I’d be surprised if you did.”“Meet me at this bar,” I handed her a slip of paper, “Wednesday evening, 8. If I agree we can talk terms...and details.”“Fine. Business over. Fancy a club?”The club was not targeted for youngsters. We, Steph and I, fitted in with the bulk of the patrons: mature women, well-off mostly and less interested in ear-splitting music than conversation. At one point, Steph brushed against my coat which was hanging on a hook under the bar. She reached down and fished. He stopped and Delia groaned at the sudden aching absence of his fingers inside of her. But he was wiggling under her, bringing himself out, lowering her on his body until she was poised with the tip of his cock against her dripping opening. With a satisfied gasp she lowered herself onto his shaft, slicing into herself, and the fullness of him stretching her inside sent wave after wave of fuzzy pleasure from the tips of her toes to the roots of her silvery hair. She rode him, his hips lifting. More

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