Because of the stress to which she had been subjected, Carrie required our help when she tried to rise from the table. Once her feet were back on the ...loor, Carrie stared in amazement at the reflection of her sore belly, which had acquired a mottled pink hue. Not wanting her to catch cold, Olga draped a large towel over her shoulders and brought a chair for her to sit on. Even after she was seated, Carrie's eyes remained glued to her own image, from which she was obviously deriving considerable. Without another word, she swirled her wet panties around on the chair, then pushed them back into her mouth where they belonged. The waiter returned with my card and receipt. “How was everything?” he inquired. “My dinner was superb, how was yours, my dear?” I asked. She blushed, and shook her head affirmatively, and tried to smile without showing off her panties behind her teeth. We strode back to the elevator slowly, as she tried to manage her cunt full of goodies, and her mouth full of her. More

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