Next she felt her ankles being gripped and her legs were abruptly parted, exposing her dripping cunt for all to see – where was Gareth? She wished ...he could take the blindfold off. She wished she could speak. A similar bondage was applied to her ankles and she felt them being securely tied to the feet of the bed. She was spread-eagled and immobile. And horny as fuck!Someone kneeled on the bed, astride her left arm and she felt her head being turned towards their groin and she opened her. I decided to take a more direct approach so I pulled his boxers down. Weird that this was the first time I saw his cock up close. I had seen it of course, touched and felt it, but never from two inches away. It had a strong scent but I didn't mind. Instantly I started touching and rubbing him, finally getting the reaction I was hoping for. Slowly but surely it rose to the size I knew it best, 7 inches of concentrated fun. I knew he wasn't really into blowjobs, but I was just to curious to not. The evening wasn’t as awkward as Brody feared it might be. He drove Ryan over; they had both agreed it was silly for her to rent a car when they were going to the same place. On top of that, he wanted to be alone with her for a little while, hoping he would find the right thing to say and break their impasse. He didn't find it, but Ryan didn't seem to mind. She left everything alone, perhaps realizing that whatever they did need to say couldn’t be covered in the fifteen-minute ride to Bax's. And Mrs. Pettibone arrived home on Sunday evening, they found their house pretty much as Sharon had left it after no less than five sessions of extraordinary self-abuse. On the livingroom sofa was a stain, a splotch, the size of a watermelon. In the kitchen was the odor of clit juice. Those two rooms, in fact, smelled like a French whore house after six weeks of defilement. The refrigerator door was open, the food stank. The t.v. was on and blaring, as was the new stereo system. The throw rugs.
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