The whole bloody thing doesn't make sense!And what was it she wanted to talk about? Nothing! She'd not said a word of anything that warranted having to have lunch with an ex-husband.I trawled through my mind. And a theory began to shape up. I can't claim I'm an innocent in the ways of the world, and I've certainly explored a few of the minor by-ways in my time. I know there is a bunch of guys out there who get off on being weak, wimp, cuckolded husbands, I've never come across any, but I know they're there. What if dear Peter is one of those, and Molly has taken the dominant wife role?Then, I'm lined up as the fall-guy. Maybe for Peter and Molly I'm the ultimate fall-guy. She phones me up, invites me to lunch because she wants to talk about 'something', a something that never materialises. She warned me that she may take some time, I should take the afternoon off, and that we needed to relax. So far my theory holds good.Then she gets me home, I have to admit, I volunteered for that. “ Take me grandpa,” she cried out in desperation, “Oh please; I need to feel you deep inside me,” her voice impatient with the arousal she felt and desperation to climax with me inside her as her hips rose and fell to meet my thrusts. My tempo increased and yet the depth of my invasion had not changed, she writhed with needs beyond her ability to change as I lifted her legs higher and found the fluid movement standing as only her shoulders and head lay on the bed. I saw her fists bunch in the covers as she attempted to fuck me back with every move she could make as the head of my dick scraped over her g-spot with each passing thrust. I felt the clenching of her abdomen as her climax built once more to the overpowering need to cum. She screamed aloud, her voice rattling the very walls of the hotel as her eruption came over her. Not once, not even twice her pussy exploded with her juices, on the third spewing of her female cum I thrust deep into her, her hymen torn away without her ever.
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