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"Yes, of course mayor. I do hope, Mr Gillstrom, that you will accept the police department's apologies. And those of Jungle Jane as well."Jane was standing by with her arms folded looking every bit as uncomfortable as the Commissioner."Well, I'm sure it's no one's fault," Gregg smiled. "Mistakes are made sometimes. This criminal is obviously very cunning. I'm sorry I couldn't help more. I didn't remember anything though. Nor did Ms Connor." Maxine gave the same regretful nod.Jungle Jane looked embarrassed. The Commissioner looked squashed. Chief O'Hara looked puzzled by the whole affair. The Mayor gripping a paper coffee cup in her hand crushed it in frustration. For the first time Gregg noticed Mayor Dorothea Reynolds as more than a sober suit and decided that she was worth noticing. True she must have been almost fifty but she had taken care of herself. She'd not bothered with surgery or botox but the lines that she did have simply gave character to her face. She'd gained a few. “You want so see us really make out? The both of you fuck us until you cum then you’ll see some good girl on girl action!” Donna promised.Kevin and I looked at the other and smiled. We gripped the hips of the other’s wife and began fucking wildly. The girls giggled as they tried to keep kissing and feeling the other’s tit.“But I want Rick to be facing me when he cums.” So we switched to Susan under me again, soon followed by Kevin and Donna. All four of us were breathing fast, in a sensual race for Kevin and me to cum.My hands became Susan’s pillow, and she held me tight while I continued to fuck her. We kissed and kissed, and I loved that sparkle of lust in her brown eyes. I couldn’t keep up the rapid pace and not enjoy this beautiful fuck. I slowed down my pace, wanting to fully enjoy the experience of our first and possibly only fuck.My hand explored between us, and I pulled back the fleshy hood protecting her clit. Now pressing her button, I hoped to please her once more. She.
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He smiled: at least that would never be his problem! A ponderous announcement boomed over the speakers, and the congregation started drifting to the dining-room. There must have been two hundred people crowded round the placing-maps, and it took him a while to find his own table, and make his way to it. There were a dozen seats at the round table, and he was the last to find his place. He was beside a stately Malian woman, who turned out to be an author well-known in the Francophone world. After greeting Sandy politely, she returned to conversation with the man on her other side. On his right was a French poet, a younger man, maybe early thirties. He was very pleasant, and spoke poor English, so their conversation was in French. They chatted through the first course, but it became clear that the poet was gay. No problem with that, but it was obvious that he was more interested in making a play for Sandy, than chatting about literature, or anything else. Their conversation withered.

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