She made tea and grabbed a croissant. “May I?” she asked, placing things on top of the table beside his.“Of course,” he said.She smiled at him...“Sleep well?” he asked her.“Very. The wine and pot conspired to make me pass out.”“Did you enjoy yourself?”“Very much. Moira?”“She’s probably still sleeping,” he said.“You don’t know?” she asked hopefully.“I think she prefers sleeping late,” he responded, not really answering her inferred question. “What did you two talk about?”“Not here!” she. " Tears streamed down her face and her cheeks were red and puffy. Her young, soft, innocent thighs were split to accommodate him, and, when he looked down at her crotch, it looked like he was trying to shove a telephone pole into her."Please take it out. Please." She was almost too weak to talk, but looked back at him over her shoulder."No."He pumped his hips and her whole body rocked with him.Pam grunted, "Uhn ... uhn ... uhn," each time he shoved her forward and jammed another small bit of. More

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