The Porsche drove up the gravel driveway as the sun was starting to go down. Once inside David headed for the drinks cabinet.“Glass of claret?” he...offered, setting two glasses down on the table.“That sounds great,” she replied, making her way to the hall,” I’m just going to freshen up but won’t be long.” Safely inside her bedroom she turned her phone on.Opening the first message, it read, “Are you alone?” The next three were pictures. The first an out of focus photo of her breasts. The second a. He'd come down with some vague idea of improving his muscle tone but sitting on a machine yanking weights on strings was boring at best and now that the televisions and music had been switched off he was seriously considering going home.The only noise in the place was the swoosh/clang of the weights machine and the rhythmic thumping of some other poor idiot on the running machine round the corner. Fuck it. Even sitting at home alone would be less boring than this.Grabbing his towel he made his. In particular, of the great artistry of Michelle Pfeiffer. Who could forget Michelle’s sensitive interpretation of the tragic heroine, Selina Kyle? Especially the moving scene where Michelle kicks ass in black leather, and damn nearly garrots a mugger/sex pest with her thighs?For most of the chaps in the club, that scene was precious, artistic and beautiful. So imagine their emotions when they saw Michelle’s thrilling assault on the pervy little guy re-created before their very eyes! And. My eyes met Sam’s over Callum’s dark head and we just stared at each other in surprise and then Sam gasped his eyes closing again as Callum swallowed his cock whole. I don’t know what the hell it was that Callum did differently when it came to sucking cock but I saw the difference in the way Sam responded to it alright. He lifted his arse right off the sofa thrust his stiff rod right into Callum’s throat; I saw Callum’s nostrils flare as he sucked it, his throat bulging with Sam’s meat. My hand.