Near to closing time, she came over and asked if we wanted one more, who doesn't and we bought her a drink, the only ones left she sat with us and mad... conversation. I left to have a piss. Like most London pubs the fucking toilets are underground and it seemed to take an age. when I got back, the barmaid was bent over the table with my buddy pumping her from behind. His trousers and pants around his ankles. The barmaid's tights and knickers just down her thighs, her belly and tits squashed. He appears to be wearing a well tailored coat that flatters his tall, athletic built body perfectly, making him that much more charming. Noticing me study him in silence, he introduces himself to me as Mr. John Harris, a new resident in building Number 67 as of days ago. “I am Ms. Ana Hart - I paused – a part time resident.” I didn’t wait for the question to be asked; I just added that I am living there on the weekends mostly, to tend to my friend’s apartment and enjoy a change of scenery. As. I had no option but to follow it but I knew I would lose my balance and fall forwards. I resisted as much as I could but finally had to give into to the force and felt myself falling forwards and downwards into a deep, soft, mattress. The rope was tied off with just enough length and a slightly uncomfortable tension. Jo's silence was deafening as she worked slowly but methodically to immobilise me with assured deftness, but finally she spoke. "Comfortable Pete?" She asked rhetorically. "I am. ..you could just watch us and .........come over here, lie down on the bed, get your face there so you can see." "Rachel and I spread our legs, so Bruce could get a nice view..... from ten inches away: "Come on baby, haven't you been thinking about something like this? Two girls rubbing their cunts right in your face? Ooooooooh fuck yeah, ummmm that feels so good...........you want to fuck both of us, don't you, Bruce? Don't you? Jacking yourself off faster means yes............." Time really.