It was obvious we weren’t just going to be having a drink, though. She said that would be fine as she’d be finished by then. But when I arrived at...eight she was there in chef’s whites. The chef hadn’t turned in and she was stuck in the kitchen. In her flat shoes she was only about five foot four.She got me a drink, and it reminded me of the joke about what is the perfect woman for an Australian…..A blonde nymphomaniac with a pub! She said she might be able to get off by nine, or half past if. "I'm Ray." He didn't need to introduce himself. We had exchanged pictures but I was glad he did nonetheless. We sat in the room and drank a couple of cold drinks. I needed to settle my nerves and I hoped Ray felt the same. He lay on the bed and asked, "are we going to get this show on the road?" His nonchalant demeanor both excited me. I lay on the bed next to him and opened his pants. I moved his clothes down and fished out his soft cock. I looked at his tool before lifting it in my. Rambo was no ordinary cavy. A rare Inca Blue, he hadearned the dozen or so ribbons and trophies above thefireplace before retiring from the guinea pig fanciers’shows at the ripe middle age of four. As for his name,he had earned that during his stud days. Normally male guinea pigs are peaceful animals, evenduring mating season; but Rambo had made short work ofanother male who had foolishly been left in a commoncage just before one of the females went into heat. Thehapless male’s. She couldn't care less about him destroying her wardrobe. Somehow, at last, her denim rammed down around her thighs, her panties ripped down and away with her desperately eager participation, his fingers found her, his mouth against hers, and it was like fingers of lightning, scoring her, burning deep into the soft, open peach of her sex. Now his hand was gentle, so careful, and she felt him smile against her lips as he gently, lovingly explored the dripping wetness of her tiny cleft, stroking,.