The blood. Someone had bled all over her boutique. Margaret shuddered to think of what might have happened. And she knew that whatever had transpired,...her husband was deeply involved in the mystery. She could conjure up all sorts of awful nightmares without half trying. Had Mitch craved his own niece so hotly that he'd gotten drunk and gone to the boutique and raped her? Had he even perhaps murdered her in a confused state of lust and passion? No, that was ridiculous to even consider. And yet. Suddenly, she put her hand on the back my head, and pulled me to her, simultaneously arching her hips up to grind her pussy against Greg's mouth and tongue. Greg held her tight, his tongue buried in her pussy, licking and sucking her. With a cry she came, her orgasm coursing through her body, her pussy throbbing against him. Gradually, she relaxed. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open. Her breathing was heavy, and her cheeks were flushed. I kissed her lips, and her eyes flew open. She smiled at. More

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