'The next Saturday looked a brighter day when I opened the door to Sarah. Her first task was always to make a cuppa for the pair of us prior to openin.... As we sat down I noticed what she was wearing; a nice red blouse, my favourite colour on a woman, a short black skirt and bare legs. I whistled my appreciation, 'off out after work then. Who's the lucky fella?' I knew I'd be lucky today. The job required a lot of bending which is why Sarah usually wore trousers or at least a long skirt.'No. She was wondering if she should give herself a hand-job. She did that sometimes, when her husband was not home to fuck her. It wasn't as good as cock or tongue, certainly, but it was better than nothing--and at the moment she had got herself worked up to a state where she truly needed something in her pussy.If she left her pussy untended, the damned thing was going to be squashing like a sponge between her legs when she walked. Worse, she was likely to soak the crotchband of her panties and be. More

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