The leaves had just started to fall from Spur Hill’s tree-lined entrance, and there was a slightly cooler air to the afternoon. I felt a wisp of wind run through my dress, encircling my breasts. I had moved past the point of no return. Through the threshold point where an older woman chooses to restrain herself. I was hot, I was horny and in desperate need to have him.
To find out more visit http://www.spurhill.com