She threw her head back and I grabbed luscious handfuls of her breasts as she fucked that whiskey bottle. Up and down, her snatch slid over the thick ...lass. The movement caused the liquid to slosh upward, giving her steaming pussy a bath of potent alcohol. God, she knew how to ride. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I roughly lifted her up onto the desk, while simultaneously taking long swigs from the pussy-warmed bottle. I could taste her youthful musk and the sharp malt of the liquor as it. Both girls had stepped outside their comfort zone for me.“I’m not sure I understand you. Why is it a roadblock?”“It’s like reading the end of a mystery novel first. The book just isn’t the same once you know the ending. Have you read The Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie?”“Yes. I’ve read quite a few of her books.”“If you read it a second time, would it be as good?”“No, I guess not. Well, maybe, actually, because I’d pick up all the clues she left. The third time certainly wouldn’t be. More

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