By lunchtime I can think of nothing else and the warm burning sensation of a building orgasm is too much to contain. As I slip two fingers into my wet...pussy in the dingy office toilets I think of his hands grabbing at my tits, pulling at my nipples and whispering in my ear that I am dirty whore... The rest of the week goes by and I can hardly contain myself thinking about seeing him at the weekend. Saturday morning I've prepared him for what I want. As soon as the door goes I am desperate to. Where did we meet?" You remember the party at Jackson's house last weekend?" Oh, yep. That was a hell of a bash. Were you there?" Yeah, I was. About ten, you walked out on the porch to talk to Alice..." Masters. Yeah, I remember that." ... and I was standing next to her." In the blue dress? That was you?" You are good, aren't you?" I remember looking at you, and thinking that you were unfamiliar. But I'm afraid the beer was getting to me, and I had to go sit down. I should have said hello." Oh,. More

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