I felt very relaxed, at ease, strange. I don't know why, but I thanked her. For looking? I wonder who had the best experience. Did she get wet, did sh... play with herself? Did she come? Would it make any difference?I said goodbye. I needed a shower.Now I feel ashamed, caught red handed. No one saw me masturbating before. Never. It was my secret. Now that's gone.But it felt great, so why being ashamed? I don't know, maybe I took it too serious, maybe it was more than just playing, maybe I needed. The first was an antique leather-bound journal with a worn strap holding its covers shut, the second was a heavy envelope with my name, Melissa Gordon, written on it in neat (if old-fashioned) cursive hand. The letter inside was typed on expensive heavy-weight paper that had the company watermark in the center of the page. The letter explained that the law firm had been retained by a small, independent museum to find and return the accompanying diary to the nearest living heir of the doner.. Heading the bedroom, we pulled out her toy box, out came the anal beads and two vibrators. I head down on her, sucking on her clit and fingering her nice wet pussy to my hearts content as she tugs away on my rock hard cock. Moving down, I moisten up her tiny little bum, ready for me to insert the vibrator in.Vibrator goes in and she is ready to fuck hard, but I won't let her, teasing her for longer. Teasing her pussy with my cock, the vibrator comes out and she wants my dick in her. I clean. Please. Prestira responded, enticed beyond caution by the sample I’d given her. My tongue circled her spokes, exploring the little folds that made up her puckered sphincter. My ears were filled with the symphony of her moans, my thoughts still transmitting, strengthening the connection with every second. I felt the spasming premonitions of my ascension, and struggled not to become lost in it. It was so hard. Zander violated my most intimate depths, his ball slapping my frothing pussy, his hands.