Sat is an African-American-India Indian mix, and Jenn in an amazing looking (and VERY buxom) white girl from Boston. Of course, the first thing that I...noticed was Sat's long thick fingers (in the very beginning of the class, as they were standing across from me). They were very absorbed in the class and each other, so I was cool looking without worry of being caught. I couldn't get the two of them fucking out of my mind-and of course that lead to me imagining Sat fucking me....I was in their. My eyes followed her tight ass and voluptuous tits to the checkout counter. We checked out our books and walked to our cars. They were parked side by side, her Chevy Camaro that needed a little bodywork and my sports car."My God, what a fabulous car!" she said admiring my Bugatti. "I sure would like to meet the guy who owns it." Well, you've just met him." It's yours? Really? What is it called?" she asked."It's a Bugatti, French. Would you like to take a spin?" Of course, I'd love to! I'm. Maybe, she's one of those cocaine whores that Fuller has read about in the X-Rated Men's magazines. The other pedestrians flow around Fuller and the beggar girl, as if they were rocks in the middle of a stream, oblivious to their existence."You'll let me spit on you?" Only if you give me a dollar." Do you want me to spit on you?" You despise me, and for a dollar you can spit on me."The girl says these last words with a conviction that defies rebuttal. It is this last comment that causes Fuller. I let a finger slide between her folds, softly stoking across the opening of her pussy. She gasped and let out a low moan, humping her hips against my finger. At the top of her folds, I found the little nub of her clit. Letting my finger glide over it, lubricated by her juices, applying almost no pressure at all. She growled deep in her throat, pulling me close against her, trapping my hand against her pussy. I rubbed her clit a little harder as she gasped out a soft 'yes' of approval. I.