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The coarse bluestone gravelled track wound its way around an embankment to their owner built house on a lifestyle block overlooking the River Derwent near Hobart, Tasmania.
That 100 metres of driveway was our last "turn back" moment, once sight from the house we were committed to play. The mundane tasks completed we were on our way back to the East Coast. The cup of tea proffered by Liz was welcome and helped refocus me somewhat, after facing the rush hour traffic on the East Derwent Highway.
I helped her onto the vinyl covered table where she lay nervously with her face inserted into the aperture provided.
Noel was now in the room with us, preparing the massage oil, dressed most appropriately in just a pair of jocks.
Lying face down her small breasts were squashed beneath her body. Her small mammaries had fulfilled their life functions, initially as a visual sexual stimulant to potential mates, a potent focus of arousal for herself and the fount of nourishment to our children. Yes, at the age of 46 years they had to lower their gaze to the ground a little bit." she continued in a cheeky parody of Mary's Asian accent.At that moment Noel appeared carrying a tray with tea pot and cups. Although still wearing underpants there was a noticeable protrusion from within. "The dog has a bone—r", he responded with a really cheeky grin. I knew then that the contrived intermission was really a cover for him to inject "Caverject" into the base of his shaft while downstairs preparing the refreshment.Her left hand was groping blindly back towards his body.Noel moved forward and Mary's fingers sought and found the elastic of his jocks. Noel pulled back, a little embarrassed, Mary withdrew her hand with some annoyance. I helped the disgruntled Mary from the massage table.