"It's your white pussy." I hissed. We kissed again, tongues swirling together in fiery passion. "It's not your husband's white pussy, is it? He can't ...uck you like I can." He was unrelenting, and it turned me on to no end. His heavy balls began slapping into my ass with faster pace, both of us brewing to inevitability. I shook my head, kissing him deep, "He could never fuck me like you can." "You're my little married slut, you know that don't you baby?" I nodded, "Yes. I'm your married slut.". Today the difference was that, a few feet in front of me stood a very attractive boy. He was slim and of medium height with a fresh looking face devoid of any trace of moustache or beard. He was dressed in a rather tight tee shirt that showed a shapely chest and a flat stomach. A clinging pair of jeans covered his lower body but unlike many of the other young men in the queue he was not wearing the modern low hip kind that exposed the top of his buns but hid the rest of the bottom in sagging. More

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