‘My you’re going at it a bit. Anyone would think your pants were on fire,’ he laughed. I could take a bit of ribbing from him, after all, look at all he’d done to help. As loco supervisor he’d replaced a sick driver at the last minute, and it was a pleasure to be with him on the footplate. I grinned back. ‘Maybe they are.’ He looked serious, ‘I’m so glad to see you coming out of your shell. It’s always amazed me how tough you are. I mean look at you, you’re just a slip of a thing, and you beat. I never stood a chance as she was 15 stones compared to my 8 stones. As our marriage wore on these sessions turned more into punishments rather than the fun foreplay it started as. My wife would pick on minor excuses, such as overcooked toast or weak tea to push me down and sit on me until I apologised profusely for getting things wrong. She would also only agree to let me up after she had moved up onto my face and made me perform long sessions of oral worship and this became the only foreplay. She glanced quickly to the left and then again to the right before focusing her own eyes on the old guy sitting in front of her. What Jackie saw next shocked and surprised her. She saw the girl purposely spread her legs, which was interesting enough, but she soon after followed that action by slipping her own hand in between them, a gesture that couldn't be misconstrued by any means. Jackie observed further as only a moment later, she lifted that same hand to her own face, sucking and licking. I try to glimpse under the table, but the heavy white starched tablecloths obscure everything from view. As I feel hands encircling my ankles, I nearly give a cry of alarm. A muffled sound emanates from my lips and my neighbours look at me in concern. My hands flutter to my chest and I give a delicate cough. The moment passes and the feast is the focus of attention once more. The hands under the table continue working their way up my legs, stroking the sensitive area behind my knees. I smile.
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