”“I rather doubt that,” I said. “I've only been in London for a little while now.”“You're a Yank,” she said in a distinct Cockney accent... Turning around to point me out she continued “Lookie here, we got a Yank. Tell me, sweetums, did you come all this way just to get fooocked.” She sort of slurred the “fucked” and I realized she'd had more than a couple of drinks by then, not a good sign. She leaned in close and practically slobbered in my ear. “Darling, you've proven your point,” said a rich,. ’ Kissing the nape of her neck, I gently commanded, ‘Get up on your knees, but keep your head down on the table.’ All she needed was a gentle, teasing finger tracing along her inner labia to set her off. The metaphorical water balloon burst, sending a heavy spray of fluid rushing down her legs and across the table top. When my finger finally touched her button, there was another gush of fluid, accompanied by repeated, violent spasms of her body. And when I gently rubbed an oily finger around. More

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