“It’s well past closing of the exhibit, and all of your guests seem to be gone now. You don’t have to pick up the glasses and do cleanup duties,...do you?”I looked around, and sure enough, Gifford and I seemed to be alone in the vast gallery. The waiters were already moving around and picking up glasses and napkins and hors d’oeuvre trays and just then the lights went out in the mezzanine.“Well, OK, that would be great,” I said weakly. “If Mariah doesn’t think it’s too late, of course. I’ll have. How can I help you?" A pleasant-sounding woman's voice answered her call."Oh ... good afternoon. My name is Amy Conway. I was wondering if I might have a word with one of your people ... John something. I met him in Ipswich. It's about Tom Carmichael." Ah ... that would be John Shepherd, I think. Just a moment."After a longish pause, she heard, "John Shepherd..." Mr. Shepherd. I'm Amy Conway. We met on board Emily Jane and you gave me a lift home. I wanted to ask you something about young Tom. Huddled inside her massive coat, with the fur lining of her hood pulled tight to frame the sharp, angled features of her pretty face, Victoria continued to scream at me. “I swear that one day you won’t come back and you’re just going to leave me here in this hellhole to rot!” She turned away as the shine of a tear caught her almond-shaped eye, pulling the hood back around herself and hunching over the fire. My heart sank to make my cultivated mood of despair dip lower still. I hated to upset. It was huge at the base, and tapered down to a normal sized tip. Laura said that his cock entered her easily, but as he thrust in and fucked her more deeply, the base started to stretch her cunt until she felt completely full of cock. When he had fucked her earlier in the evening, I was playing with her clit and then tried to slide a finger into her pussy, something that I know she enjoys while she’s fucking. His cock had stretched her pussy so tight that I could barely get a finger in. She was.