”“Do you squirt like that?” I asked“No, but I’m a lot wetter when I’m done,” she answered. “I guess you’d say I’m more of a gusher...than a squirter.”The video was still up, though Becky had paused it, and I could still see the woman lying on the bed. There were wet spots well past her feet, and she looked exhausted from her squirting orgasm.“Ready to try that on me?” Becky asked as she looked between me and her laptop. I nodded, and she closed the computer and set it aside. “Get those clothes. My dress was so, so short. I looked at the Prince. He was staring at my breasts, which were struggling to stay in the top of the dress. Then I saw him glance down. His eyes widened and I knew he could see up my dress to my pussy. One of the minders said something to Maria in French. Maria whispered to me, ‘Move your knees apart, just a tiny bit’. I did. Maria whispered ‘No, go on, a bit more’. I couldn’t believe it, but this really old man was looking at my pussy and I was just letting him see. “ Oh fuck yes, YES, you slut, don’t fucking stop” I went harder, sliding my fingers deep and hard the way they had done me, she was so fucking wet, her cum coating my fingers and smearing my face, she was arching her back, giving herself to me, I nearly came there and then, she was so damn sexy, she gripped my head dragging me off. “ Enough, fuck, that was soooooo good.” she almost purred, “think you could handle Sarah now”? I wasn’t allowed to answer as Sarah was lying next to Lisa legs. ..I gotta...move..gotta take care of some stuff, she gave a kiss on our cheeks and grabbed her bag and clothes, getting dressed and slowly moving to the door." Good luck with your romance...Mr. Babysitter...."She said slowly leaving and closing the door. We kept ourselves there....looking at each other...."I feel used..."Aky said."Same here..."Both me and Mark said."I...need a bath...."Mark said moving up."We'll be right there!" I said as Aky moved to me and I got on the sofa."You know...she.
Read MoreIt was however back that Saturday morning clutching me like a too tight sweater. I hated the feeling of choking on my grief. I had felt it before but
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