It was late night. He was getting a little bored. 'What should I do,' Irfan thought. Suddenly, Sahil entered the room. Sahil smiled at Irfan. Irfan sm...led back, knowing he wont be bored anymore. Sahil sat besides Irfan and started staring him from top to bottom like a hungry slut. He asked Irfan seductively,'Am I allowed to play?' 'Sure,' was Irfan's reply. Sahil moved over his hand and started caressing the bulge in between Irfan's jeans. Slowly, the bulge started growing. The more Sahil. I really hate it when my parties get this large but it just seems like I have to invite everyone. I either do business with or have social obligations to repay to everyone on my list except for a few good friends like you two. Clarissa's around somewhere, probably dodging hands from the lechers like usual.As the evening progressed Heather and I danced, ate, and drank way more than we should have. We had no worries because we knew we had a bed upstairs when we needed it. We were one of the few. But ... Kathy had said she was Bill's wife, and their interaction since Kathy, Jill and Eileen arrived at the Retreat had reflected that.Jill was smiling back at Eileen, and as far as she could determine, the smile was an honest one and didn't appear to be a show of arrogance or worse. "Oh, my," Eileen managed to get out as she put the cups down on the bar in front of her before she dropped them.She remembered wondering why there were so many women at the Retreat and so few men, and ... the. On the bed was Jo lying on her back with a cock in each hand. Her legs were spread wide and her newly shaved pussy was open for all to see. I was drawn instantly to her so I climbed on the bed and ran my hand over her smooth folds. She looked up and smiled as I spread her flaps apart and slipped a few fingers into her. Sharon was next to me and she grabbed my firming cock and slipped it into her mouth. I ran my tongue down Jo's inner thigh and flicked my tongue over her swollen clit. She.
Read MoreAn exotic, spicy, slightly medicinal smell fills my nostrils. "Spikenard, like in the poem," you say. I smile. You've been looking for the rare spice
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