." I say with a grin. "Think this song might have already beenwritten by Shania Twain, hehe!" I giggle along with my four friends asparty gets more an... more energised.Eventually, the two couples I'm sat with make their way onto themakeshift dancefloor, and I get up to try to find another group tomingle with, but as I glance over at the dancefloor, I see somethingthat stops me in my tracks and makes my jaw drop.There, with her back pressed against one of the male models Dannymentioned, is my. ’ Startled, I looked up to see Becky leaning against the corner of the house. She wasn’t the Victorian maid anymore. Dressed in cutoff blue jean shorts and a white tee shirt, she looked like a normal person. That is, if that person were a Hollywood movie star. ‘Envious?’ Holding out the fur matted brush, I said, ‘You can take over. Be my guest.’ Her eyes rolled, as she shook her head. ‘I’m not envious of you.’ Finally it clicked. ‘Oh,’ was all I could manage after a thoughtful moment. Should I. She found it surprisingly comfortable, this strange, long-distance relationship with a man who would one moment be commiserating with her about the fact that her flatmate rarely cleaned up, and the next ordering her to strip, put the handle of her feather-duster up her ass and dust the furniture with it, hands behind her head as always, while imagining that he and his friends were sitting there watching and fondling her as she did so. The weeks had turned into months. They had had. He was moaning with pleasure. As the young stud thrust in each time, the twink’s big rope of a cock would bounce up and down. It was hot. We both smiled as we watched.I tossed another dollar over the wall for my friend and put a fiver into my machine. I took out my now throbbing cock and started to stroke it, putting on a show for him. He showed me his tent pole in his running shorts and started rubbing it and leaning back in his chair. Some of the traffic cleared out of the arcade and he.