“Hello boys” she said, they both lean toward her and somehow, at the same time (maybe they had planned it), they both whispered in her ear “, fa...cy getting spit roasted Susan?”. ‘whoosh’ her panties were getting damp! “DO I !” she relied. “It has to be in the two-way mirror room though” she demanded. Again, in stereo came the reply, “where else!”. ‘whoosh’ damper still, along with a rush of adrenaline causing her to tremble with anticipation. She put her hands between their legs and squeezed. It had gone. As the confused nomad turned circles argued silently with himself and truly shaken resumed his course west, the shadow moved on winds unseen and with footsteps unheard towards a different west, one which would wake him with its beliefs, practices and knowledge. He would wake and he would live, but this time, he would not fade into the void, for that was unacceptable to him. The worst torture imaginable and he would not allow himself to fall once again into the cursed nothingness. Her eyebrows went up and her lips turned into a grin. Usually, by the time that Jonathon reached the office, his prick had diminished somewhat from his waking-up hard-on--although his balls remained bloated--and Brenda was delighted to see that he had arrived today already prepared. Brenda was not a girl who required foreplay. She was always ready to fuck. She had a ready cunt and an insatiable mouth, and the few moments necessary to get his prick to harden and rise seemed like a waste of time. I was asleep.”“Asleep and dreaming about your brother while you jill off. Ramie, that’s so sick.”“It’s not like that. Honest. Aubrey, please don’t think that of me.” I started crying. “It’s not. It’s not.”“Shit,” she said again.She came over to the bed, pulled her clothes off, and crawled in. I was still crying and she reached out to hug me. It wasn’t the first time I’d been in bed with Aubrey. We’d had lots of sleep-overs. Sometimes she even stayed in my room all night. We’d hugged and cuddled.