He was a shorter man with a thinner but more muscular build. He had darker skin and his head was shaven, he wore a white T shirt, and a pair of jeans....I began to stand up when Boris yelled, “No, make him feel at home, as if it was me!” I knelt in front of the stranger, and pulled down his trousers and boxers. His cock swung out, it was erect, the head of his cock was almost purple and mushroom shaped. At the tip of his cock he sported a piercing, it was a ring that went through his glans. I. Even though he was much, much older than me, I craved the way he could make me feel. Maybe it was just young hormones, maybe just young curiosity, but he could pleasure me like no girl had before. This man’s touch seemed to be more sensual, more passionate and more willing. He seemed to want to pleasure me and loved doing it, instead of the “If I have too” attiitude the girls I knew before had had, and it was addictive. Somehow, his eager, loving attention also made me want to return those. I had been twenty and felt considerably more invincible than I did right now. This driveway in winter was chaos. It seemed benign now, just grungy. One of the visitor parking spots was empty and I pulled in.I had had the most embarrassing day. In the trunk were bags of purchases including several I'd have much rather have collected via the internet. I fished my phone off the front bench but before I could text that I arrived the passenger door flew open."Jesus, Gwen! Calm your tits." Eden. Laura's leg started to shake in response to the constant teasing of her cunt. "Please?" she whispered, looking up hopefully. She grew scared as she saw the older woman's eyes flash in anger. A hand reached forward, grabbed Laura's ear and twisted."You are a pussy-girl now and pussy-girls don't talk. They don't look up either. Pussy-girl stays under the desk with her head down, waiting for someone to sit in the chair. It's Pussy-girl's job to pleasure whoever sits in this chair - no exceptions..