Ye gods that woman talked. About halfway across Staten Island, Russell signaled a pullover. We were concerned. Francine even stopped yakking until the...car turned into an ice cream chain. Ice cream evidently had some special significance for Sheila. So, Francine started talking about getting a snack.As Francine had deduced, Sheila was looking much better. I would have been tempted to offer her keys back, except for the possessive way she was stroking CC's hair. I had called CC "Pet" more than. I was 18. I wasn't into older women, or so I thought.I got a Coke from the fridge and she came back to the living room. She hadn't dressed. She seemed to have forgotten she was still in bra and panties. Mrs Jones was what you would call average. She was about 5 foot 8; not fat, not slim.; greying blonde bob haircut; women didn't dye their hair back then. I liked her because she was always kind to me, but I had never seen her as attractive or anything. I was just a teenager! Now, seeing her in. My pussy lips were dribbling as my fingertips began to tease them, glancing at my laptop screen, I watched as I slid two fingers slowly into my pussy.Mom was right, it did look hot, with my feet on the bed, two feet apart, I could easily see how my pussy lips enveloped my invading fingers and how the fingers were coated by juices while moving in and out.I was finger fucking myself steadily, controlled but desperation soon kicked in, soon I was on my back, knees either side of my chest, two. She felt the wet head of the girl’s cunt and pressed her palm into it.“Oooooo” Joan murmured, rubbing at her own cunt and feeling of the girl’s cunt at the same time.“Nice, isn’t it, Jean?” the girl responded in a sultry voice.“You’re very wet,” Joan whispered, rubbing her palm back and forth until her hand was slippery with the juices of the girl’s cunt. “So very wet.” The girl stepped up on the plastic chairs, straddling Joan’s legs. Joan gazed with hot eyes at the bushy cunt now so close to.