Chapter Twelve
“There, my lovely boy. Doesn’t that feel lovely? Aren’t my feet lovely and gentle on your tiny c**k?”
Between her bare legs, back to the sofa, television ignored, a naked Brian Fordham found himself unable to respond.
Unsurprisingly, given the difficulty he was having in breathing let alone attempting to form words.
Not thirty minutes prior to her telling him to slide off from the sofa where they were cuddling in the way of old, she had come downstairs in a thigh-high silk dressing gown and told him to lower his trousers before unlocking his manhood from its cage.
Looking about as desirable as he could ever recall her seeming in their years together, and recognising the irony even as he succumbed to his lust for her, she took him by the hand and drew him down onto the s
