“It’s very rare to find someone who appreciates music that is made by something other than synth players,” she said.He shrugged. “Among the sp...ceborn, maybe, but I’m from Brittany.”“Brittany,” she said, surprised. “You’re a groundborn?”Now it was Gath who raised his eyebrows, his eyes searching her face to determine if she was joking or not. It certainly did not appear she was. “Yes,” he said. “Most people kind of pick up on that from my accent.”“Oh, I didn’t notice you had an accent,” she said. She grinned and slid them slowly down her legs. Sabrina raised her legs and pointed them to the starry glass ceiling. My face was only inches from her slit, but still she teased me until the last moment. Slowly the material was peeled away from her form, streaking her juices with it. Her knees were pulled to her chest as her underwear was slipped off her pelvis and over her feet in a single motion. Before Sabrina could throw them aside, my face was buried in her lips. I held her legs in the air. The hair had been started in a French braid at the top of her head and woven down to the top of her neck, where it was tied off with a rubber band. From there, her curly red hair hung in waves down to her back.Brad stared brazenly at her. He admired her long legs that seemed to end at her armpits. Her perky breasts were not big, but about as big as they could get without sagging. For a woman with a nineteen year old daughter, she looked more like a sister than a mother to the bride.Amy stood. The ocean view was spectacular. As we neared the railing a strong gust of wind lifted my dress up over my waist. Holly was presented with a clear view of my pussy. She watched as I struggled with my dress, trying to cover up. She still held my one hand and she led me back into the condo."I'm so embarrassed," I blurted out."Don't be, you have a very nice pussy," she replied. "Don't tell anyone," she whispered, "but I don't wear panties either." So here we are, a couple of broads with no.