Let's go.”“Go?” the weak man said.“Yeah, go,” I said, taking his hand and pulling on him. “Let's go take care of your wife.”Mr. Armstron... stumbled after me on the walk from his front door to his car. It was Saturday morning, the sun was out, his neighbors doing their yard work, standard suburban activity. Mrs. Armstrong pretended she fit in. A perfect wife. A pillar of her church.A closet lesbian who shunned her daughter for loving me.My blood boiled. I squeezed Mr. Armstrong's hand, almost. Typical family photos of him, his wife and daughter, doing various things, birthday parties, BBQ's and vacation photos. Flipping through a few more pages, I noted that the photos were becoming much more risqué. Many shots of his wife's posterior wearing swimming suits that barely covered her asscheeks, and most of them also included his daughter, is similar revealing swimwear. I noticed in the background, there was an assortment of others taking photos, most were men. I heard footsteps coming. He felt the tightening in his groin as he passed the towel over her mound. Maddie was so quiet and submissive, he sensed he could have laid her back on the sofa and taken her right then. He wouldn’t have done it that way, not without her consent. But she was so lovely in her nakedness, and it seemed so unreal that she was here like this, a gift that had fallen on his doorstep this stormy night that the thought came to his mind, with its accompanying threat of an erection. Maddie’s teeth had. Bringing his hand around behind, but staying in her panties, he tugged down the back of her underwear hard enough to rip the elastic around her waist. They were old panties; she had worn them in the hopes that this would happen. Shoving his crotch up to his hand at her ass, he pulled down his zipper, reached into his underwear, and pulled out his fat dick. Grabbing it at the root, he worked the head up and down her ass crack, and under, wetting himself on her flood of pussy juice. After.
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