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Lynn and her husband, you and us. Lynn's husband is a bit of a drunk but a fun guy. We have an above ground going in the backyard this Monday. You need to bring your speedo. Maybe a bottle of tequila if you want. I heard heels and a knock at my door. "John, I gotta go. Talk soon." WARNING! This warning is possibly not needed for this particular story, but I am including it because it is needed for most of my stories. If you decide to read other of my stories make sure that you read the disclosures and warnings at the beginning of each story. All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life. If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century. Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2018 by The Technician. Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden. Stan Satanowski stepped out of the state of the art spray tanning booth in his basement. It was a computer-controlled, fully-automatic model and should have cost much more than he could possibly afford, but he had gotten it basically for free. Free is a relative term. In this case, it meant that when he accepted a contract to clean up and remodel a space in a local strip mall, he agreed to store any and all equipment currently in the store for a period of two years. The previous tenant ran a beauty shop called “Momma Ling’s” that offered everything from hair styling to nail treatments to spray tans to drugs– yes, drugs. Evidently the beauty business wasn’t paying enough so Momma Ling– real name Cynthia Davidson– branched out into various prescribed and non-prescribed opioids. Unfortunately, Cynthia hadn’t done hentai sufficient research on possible competition and one of the local neighborhood suppliers expressed their displeasure at her intrusion into their sales territory by shooting up the place and the people inside. Just outside the door, peering through the crack, was perhaps one of the people I least wanted to see us: Megan. You've truly made even your own mother into a slut.” “Exactly, Jeremy. Kyle’s coming? Soldiers start running towards the hall that leads to the entrance. Besides, it was an opportunity to try out some of my new-found skills. The temptation is just too much; I’m going hentai to cheat on you.” She's such a wicked slut.” I loved servicing her. I'm a girl. Every plunge into her massaging heaven brought me closer to erupting. Work is now going to get crazy, but it’s fun crazy!