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Sinead wasn't too differently attired, except she looked infinitely better. It began with a lengthy snog and eager hands all over each other, but not in an intimate way. But not nearly as good as she looked as her clothes slowly, steadily came off her. Hardcore granny sex chat is everything the lover of the more mature woman could ever want from their dirty old granny sex chat lines.Our chat to sexy grannies phone sex with the hottest, most willing older ladies in the country will have you hard and horny in no time and dirty horny granny adult chat with housewives and glamorous older ladies will satisfy your every dirty horny granny adult chat desire.Not that I intended going all celibate as a consequence. Rather than devoting our attentions solely to each other, we'd both strayed. I was going to revert to type and alternate between being an utter slut, a complete harlot and a more or less total whore, albeit behaving like the sort of slut/harlot/whore with a genuine gold star. I was going to target every female who crossed my path, lezzie, bi or not. I parked in approximately the same spot almost every day, paying "rent" by using my East Morton local as often as possible, meaning minimally seven times a week. Sadly, the restaurant was fully booked up until five-thirty so, not wanting to drink ourselves to ruined livers, we had a couple of quiet ones before walking round the bend to fuck the afternoon away on my settee. I've mentioned Margot's nails before, I believe, although maybe I referred to them as talons or claws. Margot was as unreliable as ever but she still showed up once or twice a week. Lots of them were old school-friends who'd gone away to uni, graduated and stayed away.Initially there had been the Wife-Swap Fridays, all neatly agreed in advance and acceptable. Could I have kicked off my comeback in finer style? Even Frank Sinatra couldn't have come back more spectacularly. And there she was, perched on a stool at the bar, all blonde hair, super-enhanced tits and sex appeal. She was my favourite older woman, very high-maintenance and a bit of a bitch. (I'll let you use your imagination on that episode, dear reader. I adore having sex with that woman but her nails are something else. And there was the strapless device, doing wonderful things for me as I did wonderful things for her. Going ever deeper and harder, her flesh burning lustily against my flat stomach, her cries and pleas getting louder and louder, her body as good as motionless under me yet somehow not, the bedsprings and my endless, relentless rhythm spurring her ever onwards, ever upwards. My workmate Joyce (also a tad older than me but very, very yummy) soon fell back into the routine. But they still occasionally came home to visit Mummy and Daddy.Unlike the wife-swaps those other dalliances had been spontaneous. In my perfect little world she could join my army of lovers; the ones I never fell out with and always welcomed back with open arms. Short-term contracts suited her and her travel addiction down to the ground. Well okay, so she does do guys as well as gals and I've never inspected her other lovers' backs after they've had the pleasure, male or female. She showed me her nails, clogged with bits of freshly shed skin and blood-red (not that I'm sure it was my blood; Margot's nails are invariably varnished in blood-red). Then, when I had her shrieking and yelling in ecstasy, I turned her face-down on the mattress and took her from behind, as deep and hard as even she could beg for. Okay, I confess all this self-pity is building up to me having the best fortnight of my life.And, to make matters worse, when we bickered about them afterwards, we'd fallen into a cycle of what I can only describe as revenge fucks, as if each of us was trying her best to be most outrageous. In fact our last two or three weeks together had been immensely damaging. Hmmm, okay then, make that welcomed back with open legs. She would earn mega bucks, blow every last penny on globetrotting, then do it all again, secure in the knowledge she'd still be in demand. But I can say for certain that she has raked me every single time. And the girl in question wasn't just "new"; I'd never physically met her before.
And, of course, they knew my faults and failings better than I did myself. Especially not if she got that tattoo she'd mentioned (the one close to her kitty, a love heart inscribed with "me too you", the words I had used way back, the very first time that she'd said she loved me). Not that there was anything remotely weasel-like about the girl. ***** Briefly, idly almost, I toyed with the idea of going in to work. Indeed if some crisis happened in the next few hours, I would very soon be made aware. Demanding or not, fucking Margot was never a hardship. We had spoken on the phone many times, developing an ever closer, evermore flirty relationship.
Because the driver spoke English as well as we did, we kept our conversation away from sex. ' 'Manuel,' said Sinead when we were safely out of earshot, skirting the swimming pool, on our way to the time-let apartments, separate from the hotel itself. 'Nearly everyone who ever stays here is English or Irish. In Catalonia and France he was Mexican.' 'I'll watch what I say.' Sinead laughed.
And yes, since we'd agreed the holiday, we'd had phone sex on several occasions. ' 'Possibly, because that sort of salesgirl isn't picked for her brains, is she? He liked the complex and signed on the dotted line. Then, when it was apparent it wasn't a con, he bought two more in November. 'But I bet back in Ireland he was sometimes a Cockney.' I wasn't going to argue the toss and laughed with her.
Introduction Hello, it's me again: everyone's favourite cartoon-faced snub-nosed, sexy-specs wearer.
Yes, you've all got it: Davina here, reporting for duty once more, ready to spill juicy secrets that for decency's sake perhaps should be kept behind closed blinds. After another lengthy break I am back in the mood to tell more. Most mysteriously, she always knew when I was suddenly single again.
I am also doing my best to make each set of confessions readable in its own right. Chapter One Kat's words rang inside my head as I drove Maxine 2 away from the airport. She obviously stalked me in a wired sort of a way, but how? Or did she simply use good, old-fashioned witchcraft? ' 'Margot-babe,' I replied, grinning broadly, 'it's been far too long.' Margot laughed at that and, not giving one toss for any of the other customers' sensitivities, said, 'It's been way too long, but that's not an issue anymore, is it?