My orgasm was slow and painful, my balls forcing their produce down my penis and into that warm, wet tunnel. There were no last strokes. I knelt motio...less behind Chris, gripping her hips. My cock was as deep as it would go, with my cum flooding into her. I felt her inner walls gripping me, and my head was pressed against the very top of her vagina.At the sight of my massive and painful orgasm, Chris' own response, moaning into her pussy, was the last straw for Julia. She gushed into Chris'. “Sure as long as you brew the next pot, and put it in the aging jar,” I said. The aging jar was actually an iced tea pitcher with an ‘x’ on the outside. The ‘x’ was made of red duct tape. Like everything in my life the coffee ritual was complicated. I brewed the coffee one day, then poured the whole pot into the brewing pitcher. The brewing pitcher lid was self sealing. The thing let me have day old coffee first thing the next morning.“Sure, I remember how to do it,” she informed me. “You are. Her jaw hung open loosely, her eyes rolled back in her head, only the whites visible as her body felt overwhelmed by repeated surges of energy which caused her hips to spasm involuntarily. Each rush of pleasure shot through her hips, pulsing through her upper body and erupting from her throat as a high pitched cry. Fifteen seconds or so later, the orgasmic plateau passed and the slapping which could previously be heard was now replaced with a damp squelching sound due to the flood of wetness. I still wasn't committed to the whole girl, girl thing, But I was willing to keep an open mind. That is all I promised Mary Ellen. We pulled into a double wide mobile home an hours drive from the motel. That put it well outside my jurisdiction, I was glad that Marry Ellen seemed to honor my wishes."Well we are here," she said."Not many cars for a party." I said. She knew that it was a question. There were only three other cars."Well it only takes three of us to make a party and we have some.