She looked into the stalls and found one empty. She walked in as I waited outside. “You really do not know how this works do you” she asked “I have no idea” She grabbed my hand and pulled me into the stall; it was big enough for the both of us to stand comfortably. She began to explain “when we have parties and we need to go pee we take someone to guard for us, that means you stand at the door so no one can come in on me, or try looking thru the crack of the stall and get a cheap peak” “Ok. Among such sensuous feelings, she gradually decided to forget the fact that I was her first man since her husband's death. She stared with a new found passion at me. Later that night I decided I would take her ass. My cock is hard and dripping pre-cum. I knew she would protest. She'd conceded to fingers, but when I rubbed my cock over her pursed rosebud, she tried to squirm away, trying to leave me to finish myself off in the shower. I reached my other hand to rub her dripping pussy, and hear. Her arms were pressed down on the bed, and her hands were clenched. Her abdomen was taut. Her hips were barely on the bed and moving across it in time to his strokes. Her mound was pushing upward toward his hand. Her legs were straight and barely touching the sheet for much of their length, but her heels were pressed into the mattress. She was beautiful. Of course, she was always beautiful, but, like this, perched on the edge of her responsive writhing, she was even more beautiful. And he. She watched him drink in the sight of her, his now flaccid dick twitching as she put her right two fingers on her shaven clit and started rubbing slowly. ‘Now that we’ve said Hello, maybe we can do this better?’ They traded smiles and he waggled his limp prick with his left hand. ‘Give me a minute?’ ‘Sure, hey, now how about that drink?’ She enquired once again sweetly. ‘Help yourself.’ He gestured at the mini bar that she’d unceremoniously dumped her bag onto as they came in. He was too busy.
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