Dog-style wives

Начало книги

"Are you trying to get us arrested?" Shelley Ordwell's voice was too full of restrained laughter to be a rebuke.

"Not me!" Ross Ordwell leaned to his left and peered closely at his wife's uncovered tits. He had removed her halter as she drove the big station wagon over the county highway, and now he could admire the ripe firmness of the exposed jugs at close range. "You're doing the driving, Shel!"

"Sure, and when some patrolman pulls me over to ask why I'm half-naked, you'll just sit there and watch the fun. I know you!"

"The turn-off's just around the next curve," he told her. "You'll be driving up Harp Lake Road before you know it. And no patrolmen use that road." He unfastened the waist of her shorts and started to work them down off her hips.

"Ross!" she shrieked. "Can't you wait until we get there?" Again, her voice held more amusement than irritation, and she lifted her ass as she held her weight on the steering wheel; she was too fond of those shorts to have them torn.

Читать дальше →