I pulled Cynthia next to me on the loveseat, knowing I would have to eat her cheesecake.John wanted to know what I hoped to accomplish in Denver. I to...d him that we needed to decide how to divide the building into rentable bays, but withheld my primary purpose for making the trip. It was imperative that Neill and Tom bury the hatchet.It didn't surprise me when Cynthia took two small bites of cheesecake before giving up. However, I could see that Suzanne was shocked by the way Cynthia fed it to. “I’m Stacy, I’ll be your server today, can I start you with some juice?” They were in their early twenties, I reckoned. Each dressed in pink snow gear, stretch pants and cute sweaters. “Hi, Stacy,” one of them said. “I’m Teri, that’s Meg, that’s Chelsea, and that’s Bree.” She had short blond hair, and a blinding smile. I waved hi to them, and immediately forgot their names. They ordered omelets and fruit salads, along with juice, and I rushed off to put the order in and see to the rest of my. I let out a big groan and feel the walls of my vagina pulse and squeeze his fingers so hard. Then I feel it, all the hot juice running down the crack of my ass. I reach under myself and feel my ass and confirm the mess I am making. “Oh crap I squirted there goes the sheets” I exclaim as I jump up to go retrieve a towel. He snickers and says “Towel time for your juicy pussy!” I run just steps away to the bathroom linen closet and get a towel and spread it on the bed to catch any further mess. . Let's see -- half of .700 would be .350. So then -- .375. No, no, I wasn't going to hit .375; or .350, either. Not even if Emmy Shreve was right there in the dugout, boffing me between plate appearances!But I felt a wonderful confidence that, now, I was going to hit. I was going to move up some in the batting order, when Stu Little eventually noticed that I was, reliably and consistently, pounding the be-Jesus out of the ball!And it was all Emmy Shreve's doing. Nobody was going to convince me.