Lola couldn't believe it, not once had she ever witnessed anything like it. He looked glorious as he was pumping hard into this nameless stranger. Alt...ough she'd only saw him for a second, she noticed every detail; the way his tight muscled stomach flexed with every thrust, how his big strong arms gripped her behind helping him to enter her faster and harder, the way the woman's face was contorted with pleasure and strain and how James just looked straight up at her when she gasped as if he. People had called her Toes (her surname was Foot). She was talented, but the problem was that she knew it. As a result she was arrogant, and perhaps a little pretentious with it. Her brain was working on hyperdrive. It recalled with graphic clarity that last night in Barcelona. She was back there in the deserted dressing room, her back against the wall with Dieter holding her tightly to him. Their lips were locked in a passionate kiss. His facial muscles and his trumpeter’s. And then the floodgates opened: "Please fuck me, Sir!" I gasped as soon as You removed Your mouth from mine. "Fuck my pussy, fuck my fucking cunt, Sir! Oh god, Sir, I want your cock, Sir! Please, please fuck me with your cock, Sir! Fuck me like a little whore, Sir! I'm your fuck-toy, Sir! I'm your slut, I'm your...oh, shit! FUCK!"This last was practically screamed as You shoved two fingers into my pussy and then began grinding on my clit with the heel of Your hand."PLEASE, Sir! Please, please,. My sleeveless V-Neck sweater in olive green over a new support bra created the illusion of cleavage, or so I thought. His eyes felt warm as the scanned me up and down. I blushed, good thing I had applied a healthy coating of powder this morning, it would reduce the amount of red that would show. "Is it your hair?" he said finally. I almost frowned, but didn't want to disappoint him. "Yes", I lied, "do you like it?" "Looks great", he chipped, "Hey can you get me a coffee?" I jumped.