April mornings in New York could be as cold as shit. Deirdre was there. She was moving steadily through yoga poses, heat rising visibly from her Lycra...clad body. She looked like she’d been at this awhile. He stepped around her and poured a glass of orange juice from a pitcher she’d left on the patio table. Fitz pushed two fists in the air and stretched out a long, elaborate yawn. Deirdre set her hands and feet upon the stone surface and pushed up her hips, bare belly arcing to the sky. As she. He kept rubbing me, working up to my clit, making me squirm and wriggle like crazy in his arms. He was so good at keeping a steady pace. I later learned he was left handed, explaining why it was so good like it was. Out of nowhere, he slipped two fingers into my soaking pussy. They parted my lips nicely. At first, he kept them in there without moving them. I had moaned quietly upon them entering me so he stopped to regain control and let me calm down. Once I did, he went out and in, out and in,. More

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