She phoned up and asked to speak to the floor manager."It's Angie." she said, waiting to hear a "who?" on the other end of the line, but instead, she ...eard a muffled "oh shit, not her too..." Don't tell me you've got it too?" The idea that many of the folk at work had been changed from male to female or vice-versa, nearly made Angie fall off her seat, but Robert, the manager, qualified his fears. "Half the bloody factory is off today. I can't do without you too." I'm sorry Rob, but it's women's. .. the train." Lenny had only one thing on his mind at this point. As to explain his plan to his mother he thrust up his hips. Sally moaned softly as she looked around. While the train was no longer packed, there were still a few people in the car. Thankfully no one seamed to be watching them. Shifting slightly Sally was able to slide a little deeper onto her son's cock while giving her the ability to reach the floor in order to start bouncing and riding her son.As they continued down the track. After Bob could go no further, She felt Bob pull out as Donnie pushed inside her pussy, making her body fall. They continued to see-saw her, building up speed. Her eyes drifted to the side and she saw Terri's eyes fixed on her, and her body grew warmer still. She hadn't been this wet, she hadn't felt this good, she hadn't wanted someone in her entire life. They kept pounding her hard, see-sawing between her ass and pussy until they couldn't take it anymore. Bob released his load inside her ass. The heat was tropical. She was a singer. Weren’t all women once? She had the calling of the Siren, a Lorelei, destroyer of men. Circe, sorceress, witch. A voice so steeped in magical chant and ecstatic, holy praise that God Himself would have seduced her just to listen as she reached her climax. In lilting jazzy riffs of moans and little pattering breaths; in low, agonized releases, in snarling, animal howls she was a singer. Awaiting a man to sing to. Thinking of the man she awaited, often in.
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