We sailed to Pin Mill on the Orwell (setting of Ransome's 'We Didn't Mean to Go to Sea') and one long weekend we re- enacted that story with a passage...to Flushing. We visited the Walton Backwaters ("Secret Water"). We sailed up the Colne and listened to a Nightingale while anchored off Fingringhoe. At night, Jessica and I slept together and made love; I occasionally felt bad about excluding Jenni, especially when Donna wasn't with us, but she seemed very happy.When the weather wasn't so. Here I was in the back seat of a stranger’s car kissing and fingering a sexy granny I’d just met and with hubby’s explicit approval and encouragement … so what’s to complain about? Well the perv in me couldn’t help thinking about those damp panties; what colour, just how damp were they and how pungent was the aroma? Jenny’s moaning brought me back to the job in hand. I had found the spot I was seeking and was rubbing it steadily and firmly in a circular motion. Our mouths were clamped together. After about 2-3 minutes she couldn’t take it anymore and both of us came together. She simply collapsed and did not even open her eyes for a long time. She slept like that and did not even say a word. She did not bother to wash herself or wake up. I lay beside her and slept without washing myself. I was totally exhausted. This was one of my best fucks, but not the best.I woke up the next day morning at around 8am. I got up and she was sitting dressed in the jeans and T shirt that I had bought. "I don't know," I replied, scratching at the area just above her crack, my scr****g fingertip managing to slip into her delightful crevice. "Should I get it?" Hurry then," Mom said. "Dad will be home soon."I moved down to scratch at the fleshy bottom of Mom's cheeks. I was in my glory, rubbing away at Mom's fantastic butt, my head lowered to see what I was doing. There was, of course, no paint there. Employing both hands in the interest of getting the job done faster, I managed to pull Mom's.
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