I remember a layout from an old Hustler I used to steal from under my dad's mattress that had a guy giving it to "Mrs. Clause". I must have been 13 or 14 years old. Fast forward about 10 or 12 years and I'm walking out of my office in DC when a very mature (she couldn't be younger than 55) thin blond lady walks out of her gym in a pair of jeans, sandals (I'm a foot man) and a yellow tube top with her nipples standing at attention. "I'd love to taste you," I said under my breath. Not exactly suave...especially as she actually heard me. So I kept walking. But I noticed she kind of grinned, so I slowed down at the next shop and pretended to look in the window. She stopped next to me and for a second I was tongue tied just taking a peek at her toes. Then I turned and smiled and asked her opinion on some shirts in the window. She told me she was a personal shopper and would love to give me some advice. So we went into the shop and pretended to give a shit about clothes. Her name was Katya. " And I know about Fridays when they find a motel where you husband can stick his dick in my wife for hours at a time!" Jamal, I can explain. Coleen is helping Kirk..." Oh she's helping him all right. Helping him to get his White rocks off in her Black pussy!" Jamal, it isn't like that." Oh, then just what is it like?" he sneered."He... that is we... I mean..." Marcy stammered, trying to find the words, knowing none would be sufficient."So," continued Jamal, walking a few steps closer, "I figure that since your husband is screwing my wife, I'd just return the favor."Marcy's mouth dropped open."You... you can't mean that," she cried."Think not?" he asked, moving toward her, cutting her off when she tried to move away."Jamal, I think you'd better leave." Not til I get some White pussy." No, absolutely not!" Don't you say no to me!" he exclaimed, drawing back his powerful hand.Marcy cringed, instantly afraid."Besides," he continued, you owe it to me." Owe it to you?" she asked.
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