His fingers combed through the curly tangle of my pubic hair. The other hand cupped one of my bare buttocks. His strong fingers kneaded the flesh, as ...f it was dough. Fingertips parted my pussy lips. His middle finger slipped all the way into my wetness, adding even more heat to my arousal. I felt my treacherous vaginal muscles swiftly clamping around his finger, as if to make sure it stayed wedged inside my wetness.In a last ditch effort I tried to wriggle away. I tried to protest, once again,. The following week or so continued on about the same as things had been going. Christy was still having no luck making it to the bathroom on time and her potty training chart was now filled with frowny faces for the days it had covered thus far. It wasn't for lack of trying, however, as Christy had attempted to make it to the bathroom on numerous occasions with varying degrees of progress before her inevitable accident. That day where she'd gotten to the toilet remained the closest she'd. Within 10 minutes of sitting down, the place filled up. A group of 6 young men joined us in our booth, it was a little squashed but as the place was pretty packed, we had to make do.They where a bachelor party, they where giving their friend, 'the soon to be' groom a good send off. They encouraged us to join in with their festivities and kept plying us with champagne, though I could detect an under-taste of vodka in mine. It occurred to me that they where trying to get me drunk so that the. This was such a new Faye.“Perhaps you’re the kind of girl whose panties are found down the back of the sofa in the morning?” I smirked. Actually I was wondering if Faye had ever been to a teenagers’ party. The idea made me nervous.“How would they end up there?” she smiled.“Some bad boy would get you behind the sofa, perhaps.”“Oooh.” She edged towards the end of the sofa and I danced with her round behind it.“So,” she continued, “all his friends would be watching, while...” She came in and.