Chapter 77

Fuck. This.

Enrico was sweating like a mad man, his hair disheveled and slick with perspiration, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

If he thought it was torture, keeping his hands to himself while his wife blew him, then he fucking had something else coming for him.

And damn the irony, he couldn't even fucking come,

Because Maren placed both hands on his shoulders, her beautiful voluptuous tits