Head From West Indian

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..pouty."Well, we can call it a day if you like, the guys are heading home," I offered."Could I bring my car in and see what's leaking before we go home?" she asked.I looked at my watch -almost five-thirty - before answering and looked up to see her giving me a pouty face and puppy-dog eyes.Those lips, those eyes... "Yeah, sure. Bring it in and we will take a look."She leaned up and kissed me on the cheek."You're the best, Big Guy," she giggled as she ran to the parking lot.With the car on the lift, we quickly found a loose clamp and fixed her issue. Once done, she opened the trunk of her car and pulled out a small cooler."Let me buy you a beer, Big Guy," she offered as she opened the cooler and removed two cans."Let me lock up first," I replied.I returned to the shop to find her removing her coveralls. As they fell away, her shoulders were revealed, then her back, then her perfect little ass. She was wearing a muscle shirt and a pair of thin jogging shorts under her coveralls. The. He started to kiss and lick the soft skin of my belly and cupped my ass cheeks in his warm and strong hands, lifting and massaging them a bit. He spread my legs and kissed my inner thighs while he started to massage my swollen breasts. Oh, I was so ready for him. He had such a nice tongue, licking and sucking me so well, and his lips were perfect, full and soft, he really knew how to kiss with them. “Oooh my,” I thought. “What are you doing with me?” He slipped two fingers inside my wetness, fingering and pushing the G-spot, letting his tongue flick over my lips and clit so eagerly. His other hand held one of my breasts at a time, pinching my nipples firmly. He made me squirm as I lay there, watching him doing such a great job.I started to play with my boobs, massaging them with my hands and sucking my stiff nipples, one after the other; biting and nibbling them softly while I pulled the stiff nipple of my other boob. He inhaled my sweet scent; the smell told him that I was getting.
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The day of 'easy' labor didn't start well for the wife. First, as she got the bag of oats to feed the mule, she spilled it. Then the mule refused to stand still to be harnessed, and the cart got stuck in the barn. Cutting hay with the scythe was much slower than she expected, and she forgot to pile it to dry. Cutting the wheat with the sickle, she knocked more grain from the stalks than she left on them, and her misshapen and sloppy shocks blew over in the gentle breeze. In the evening, the cow refused to move home from the pasture, and then as it neared the barn, it was spooked by the chickens running amok. Cleaning the barn of soiled straw was hot, stinky, and the dirty straw blew in her face. Finally, she spilled the mule's feedbag once more as she tried to finish the day. By the time she trudged into the house to concede the contest, she was weary and sore.The farmer had no better a day. In gathering the eggs, he let the fowl escape from their pen, then he broke most of.

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