I can't believe Christine's wearing a bikini. Heck, it kind of blows my mind that she even owns one. Now that I think about it, it's pretty remarkable...I got to see her in a one-piece bathing suit last time. I've never even heard of anyone seeing her at a beach or a pool, period. She probably avoids those situations because she doesn't like people staring and drooling over her bodacious body more than they already do. Since it's Thanksgiving, it's not like she could have rushed out and bought. I don’t fucking think so was the thought running frantically through my mind and I was totally ashamed of myself for even hearing him tell me that I would end up loving it let alone actually degrading myself to the point of actually doing so.Another one of the men approached me with some kind of leather outfit and told me to put it on he also flung a pair of black leather boots that would come up almost to the top of my legs and had an 8? sharp stiletto heel on them. I struggled with the. Their laughter drifted through the open windows. Rick intrigued me. Large, well-fed yet muscular, he managed to intimidate nearly everybody he encountered. He was also soft-spoken and sweet with a sentimental side that melted my insides. And he loved to cook. He cooked for me on our first date. Lasagna. We shared a red wine I brought, although I had no clue as to the decency of the wine. It succeeded in relaxing me a bit, relieving me of the quiet demeanor I was so often plagued with. We. He moaned again and said, "Wow, that feels so much better than my hand," and reached out to stroke my cock in return. There was no going back now. Only forward. I had pulled him across the line, and he'd come along, landing us solidly in the bi-land. And that meant pursuing what I really wanted: his cock spewing jizz into my mouth. I figured if he’d reciprocated even this far, and even if he didn't want to do more than this to me, I could get away with blowing him. My hand still on his.