Then she came a little closer. With her legs either side of me she squatted on her heels, her legs opened either side of mine. Her fingers were once a...ain on her pussy and penetrating her. Her other hand stabilised her by clutching at the radiator on the wall. Her breasts bounced as her arm pushed at them as she fingered her pussy. “Spurt it for me…” she gasped the words as she looked directly at my cock. Her face was just six inches away from my cock head. “Spunk up…” she gasped, “I‘m fucking. But the tactile experience of my fuckings of that night, as remembered, was not the crude rubbing of a dry hand on penis. It was an electrically sensual contact with moist mucus membranes, with the slick, writhing interiors of mouth and vagina. And I could remember the taste and texture of their genitals in my mouth as if it had truly happened.It was quite beyond my understanding. And I felt grieved that I would never see that room again -- nor Contessa and her daughter -- nor any of the. More

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