There isn't a single living soul around — just the two of us, hand in hand. My icy fingers are intertwined with hers, protected by thick gloves, and her head rests gently against my shoulder.
It almost feels like the first date of a young couple, even though, truth be told, it's not that far from reality, since this is the first time Mrs. Lunsford and I are actually going out on a real date.
Even so, I didn't expect the evening to take such a romantic turn. But then again, mature women want more than a pretty face or a big cock. They want to be pampered, desired, spoiled — things that put them in the right state of mind to do something irrational, like cheating on their rich husband, the very man who supports them and allows them to enjoy that dream life without ever having to work.
And Mrs. Lunsford is very much in that mood right now.
