She was, she knew, behaving completely out of character, but that is what she needed, to act the slut and enjoy it. She squeezed her breasts hard enou...h to leave marks, thrust her fingers as deep into herself as she could get them, bucked and heaved her pelvis against the pressure of her hand, until finally, in one immense volcanic explosion, she came.Her orgasm was mind-blowing, it did not last long, but the intensity, brought about by the circumstances, was beyond belief. The waves of ecstasy. What the hell did I do last night?I pushed the voice aside and focused on my painting. My edges were coming together, but I still wasn’t happy with the red. Too bright, too lively, too…...I’m not the kind of girl that does things like that...I clenched my jaw and leaned in to break up a glob with the end of my brush. I needed to get lost in my work, to get in the zone. I didn’t have time for voices....I would never just flirt with some older man and then take him into a closet and let him put. "Coincidentally", we decided to leave at the same time and walked back to our cars, which were now alone in this relativelysecluded and otherwise empty parking lot. We dumped our stuff into our respective cars, when shecalled out and asked me to "come over here for a minute". She was sitting in the drivers seat of her carwith the door open, with her feet on the ground and asked me to come closer. When I did, she reachedover and undid my belt, the button on my jeans, and fly. She gently. “You sure have some commute to Rasputin’s,” I tell her.“Well...yes. But it’s worth it, in many respects.” Ahead there’s a common room. We turn left short of it, into the kitchen.“Good for the soul,” I say.Amelia grabs some tongs and points them at me. “Yes. That’s definitely a part of it.”She offers me an old fashioned. It’s the way they do it at House of Prime Rib, she tells me. The jar of maraschino cherries in the fridge is caked with syrup. We take turns with the top, doing impressions of.