My mouth continues its travels until I can smell what my hands have only hinted at, my wife’s vagina, engorged with arousal and moist with her own j...ices. I let my fingers glide across her moist lips collecting moisture for what is to cum. My tongue is placed upon her clit, where it slowly strokes upward, causing my wife to breath even harder. Once my fingers have stroked her lips long enough I gently place a finger at her opening, putting as much pressure on it as possible without entering.. It was the Mitla Cafe, in business since the end of the 1930's. But then it was back on the road. Cutting west from San Bernadino, it wasn't long before we entered the greater Los Angeles Metropolitan Area and began running through it's northern burbs. Places like Rialto, Fontana, Cucamonga, Claremont, Glendora, Monrovia were flashing by on the city streets in mind numbing suburb after suburb.Originally, these were just more of the spaced out little towns and villages that Route 66 was meant to. They were fighting. One problem with this house, poor sound insulation – you could hear pretty much everything. ‘How could you just stand there and let her talk about me like that? I mean, what in the hell is wrong with you? We’re having a great time at the bar with all the girls, and then suddenly you see HER with that poor guy, lucky escape if you ask me, and you jump up and run off to her. Then…THEN she leaves and suddenly you’re not in the mood and want to go too…’ The ranting just. "What?" demanded Lucy. "What are you doing?" Nothing, sweetie," Becky replied. "I'm just teasing your daddy. I don't think his big clumsy fingers could cope with a facial. What else do you do?" My friends and I play truth or dare, sometimes. That's pretty fun." Truth or dare?" I said. "I haven't played that since high school. I'm game." That's decided, then," said Becky. "Mike, would you pour me another glass? Oh, and I guess Lucy can have one too." I glanced at her, but she smiled winningly,.
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