E bucked up and down and came harder than before, almost screaming her pleasure. She would tell me later that I was the first person to eat her to completion, and, as she said, she was now "addicted." I kept at it until a third orgasm rocked her body and she panted and started pushing me away. I looked up at her, my face smeared with her goo, and smiled. She covered her face and giggled wickedly."Your turn,” she whispered, sliding her hand down to grasp my dripping hard on and stroking it. Soon, I was on my knees feeding her my cock and taking picture after picture of her sucking me. She was an expert cocksucker, and got me off twice before we took a break. She repeated that she hadn't ever had an orgasm from oral sex, and asked me to do it again -- a request I couldn't turn down. After a couple more orgasms, she was willing to dispense with the nightie and strike some increasingly obscene poses for me -- and ultimately her husband. The ones of her in front of the curtainless window,. A bald, buff, grumpy looking man with an eye patch carded us, then grunted. A thumb jerk indicated we'd passed, and we entered a small lounge. Large black leather couches lined the walls. There were round tables, each capable of seating three people, spread around the middle of the darkened room. The stage was under low lighting, and I briefly wondered if the bar made such low profits that it was required to keep the room so dark. The drinks were cheaply priced, but the liquor was strong, so I agreed to stay. It had been obligatory until the piano player, a short balding man who looked to be in his early sixties announced Iris. She strode to the microphone, gripping it with a confident ease, "Evening, loves." Her eyes swept the room, taking in the twenty or some odd people in the room. I felt frozen in place as her eyes met mine. She graced us all with a bright smile, smoothing her hands on her fire-truck red dress before she began to sing. I don't remember what the tunes were, but.
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