Giving my hair a quick tousle for that just fucked look, I was now ready to face the new owners of my pussy and ass. We left for the Hotel and after w... had checked in to our room, I made sure everything was prepared. Placing some lubricant, baby oil and a selection of sex toys on the bedside cabinet, I removed my coat, handing it to Dave to hang up in the wardrobe. We had at least a full half hour before we were scheduled to meet in the bar. I could see how aroused Dave was, looking at his hot. He could sense her weakness! The intensity of the charade was sapping her energy and blocking all thinking.It was opaque. All of it. None of it was true. She lived in a three bedroom suburban house with a husband called Charles and a blonde headed daughter with dimples. Cecily wasn't a spy! She'd never been to a war zone. She was a psychologist like it said on the door. She was a fake and a plant and it was a test: an interview. Everything about her was an invention.That's what he told himself. As the evening progressed so did the drink, and before long the numbers started to drop as did some of the clothes. The Manager approached her and lied by saying there were interesting things in the next room , and once inside she found her clothes soon disappeared and her hand was being forced into the gap in the guys trouser zip. She was suddenly very aware that the opportunity to rebel had arrived but did she have the courage to accept the challenge. Without hesitation she held the semi. Michael’s hands began to roam as she did this, lifting her tee to reveal her soft skin and lacy bra. “I was right,” he thought. He immediately drew her tee off and filled his hands with her soft breasts. Ashley’s nipples peaked at the sensation of his hard palms on her sensitive breasts. Michael ran his fingers over her breasts, circling around her nipples before closing them between his thumb and forefinger and squeezing lightly. At Ashley’s moan, he squeezed harder as he kissed down her.