“bloody hell.” You hiss, “So tight.” “Please.” I manage to gasp. “Please what love,” you mumble your mouth expertly sucking my clit. �...�Damn it, you know what.” I growl. “I don’t believe I do darlin’” you say as you add a second finger to my tight hole. I dig my nails into the back of your head and moan again, loud enough that if anyone is outside I know that they can hear me and know what’s going on behind the door. “You want me to fuck you don't you?” “Yes.” I growl. You gently lower me, and. Let me make the introductions. From left to right are Mrs Johnston, Ms Green, Mrs Hopwith, Mr Smythe and lastly, Mr Carmichael”.They too were dressed to kill (not say stimulate) and in the case of the women, not mutton dressed as lamb but dressed to kill. Ample tits busting out, tight trousers, you get the picture. In fact I was getting a bit of a stiff just looking at them all. Not wanting them to think I was a randy goat, I sat down opposite and waited for the expected barrage of. More

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