I was secretly hoping that Caleb would be in the room, but no such luck. I got dressed in my new grey pants and old boxers. No way was I going to wear...the boxers they gave me. I looked so out of place here. I didn’t have the chest muscles to match the other boys in the house. But whatever, maybe Bartholomew would realize I didn’t belong here and send me back to my mother. When I came outside Bartholomew was waiting for me with a pair of gloves. “Since you aren’t used to picking grapes yet you. He looked at my face, and I smiled gently at him. The look must have been the encouragement that he required, and he took me in hand. I sat back and enjoyed him exploring my cock.I soon got the impression he’d not had a lot of experience at sucking on one. At the rate, he was going we’d be here all night, so I offered a few helpful hints. After a little while, he took his mouth off me and asked, “Can I finger you?”“You can fuck me if you like,” I replied. I stood and stepping around him, I. The journey passed in a whirl. Arrival in London, taxi to the Dorchester Hotel, checking in (she was sure the concierge knew what she was doing… she felt so guilty) and then in the lift clutching the key to Room 342. The room was wonderful, big bed and a luxurious bathroom. She ran herself a bath and relaxed with the bottle of Chardonay she had ordered and the room service had delivered in 5 minutes. She thought of the evening ahead as she stretched out in the warm bubbles, her free hand. As the first shot splashed against her chin and the next hit her waiting tongue, he lost himself in the whirlpool of her eyes. Unable to do anything but hang on as she painted her body with his cum, he managed to hook two fingers around her pubic bone and found the raised nub of nerves just as she started torturing the head of his cock when she pulled it back into her mouth. He watched her eyes pop open and felt the moans turn into screams as she succumbed to the most powerful orgasm she had.