Her name was Monica.
'I'm sixty-two years old and I want to give you a lap dance.'
I don't know what she put in my mango smoothie but I was feeling frisky.
Max just looked on as Monica started planting her ass in my lap and tongue kissing me.
I knew there had to be a catch.
She was just tight, in all the places.
I don't know what kinda calisthenics the elderly were doing in Indonesia, but she was preserved.
She rubbed her more than two hand falls boobs against me.
A button had popped and I got a great view of cleavage that went forever.
'Want some more of that, sweet boy,' she asked. Her voice was now purring, jettisoned of the old lady voice she had only moments ago.
I'll have another mango smoothie if you know what I mean.
Jack and Max were looking on.
Max seemed to have an inkling of what was going on.
Monica's skin around her neck was smooth, and underneath her pants, I could feel the outlines of a pink g-string.
Aren't they all pink?
'Not mine, love boy,' said Monica who came back with another smoothie.
I swear to god she laced it with something.
'I have, my love juices.'
Then she ripped off the mask that was concealing a face that couldn't' have been over 25 years old. And when she pulled off her wig, long black silky hair just fell in all the right places.
I helped her with the transition by ripping off her shirt.
Underneath was an ecosystem of its own.
Then she pulled out my cock and placed it in her vagina while riding me hard.
'You won't ever underestimate me again, will you Frank,' said Max.
There was no doubt, he delivered the goods today.
'And so can you,' said Monica, who was riding for first place at the Kentucky Derby.
'I want my trophy to be your love juice,' she added.
Where was Richard Branson, I might just have a business proposal for you.
'I'm sixty-two years old and I want to give you a lap dance.'
I don't know what she put in my mango smoothie but I was feeling frisky.
Max just looked on as Monica started planting her ass in my lap and tongue kissing me.
I knew there had to be a catch.
She was just tight, in all the places.
I don't know what kinda calisthenics the elderly were doing in Indonesia, but she was preserved.
She rubbed her more than two hand falls boobs against me.
A button had popped and I got a great view of cleavage that went forever.
'Want some more of that, sweet boy,' she asked. Her voice was now purring, jettisoned of the old lady voice she had only moments ago.
I'll have another mango smoothie if you know what I mean.
Jack and Max were looking on.
Max seemed to have an inkling of what was going on.
Monica's skin around her neck was smooth, and underneath her pants, I could feel the outlines of a pink g-string.
Aren't they all pink?
'Not mine, love boy,' said Monica who came back with another smoothie.
I swear to god she laced it with something.
'I have, my love juices.'
Then she ripped off the mask that was concealing a face that couldn't' have been over 25 years old. And when she pulled off her wig, long black silky hair just fell in all the right places.
I helped her with the transition by ripping off her shirt.
Underneath was an ecosystem of its own.
Then she pulled out my cock and placed it in her vagina while riding me hard.
'You won't ever underestimate me again, will you Frank,' said Max.
There was no doubt, he delivered the goods today.
'And so can you,' said Monica, who was riding for first place at the Kentucky Derby.
'I want my trophy to be your love juice,' she added.
Where was Richard Branson, I might just have a business proposal for you.
