I wondered if that was called something. Probably some vulgar thing like double twat munching or slutty licking.Dressed, I headed downstairs, my boobs...jiggling beneath my shirt, my nipples grazing my cloth’s fabric. I hummed as I headed to my kitchen. I glanced out the window and saw Mr. Spencer heading into his car. He hopped inside.Mrs. Spencer was home alone... My dick throbbed. I shook my head. I had dinner to cook. I wanted to make something easy. I thought about what I had and settled on. And there was a lot of time before morning. I’m not particularly proud of this line of thought, but alcohol and testosterone won out over common sense. And, ultimately, I think we were both glad that they did.I picked up my clothes, wrapped my towel around my waist and left the bathroom cautiously. I glanced at the half-dozen doors that lined the corridor. Had one of the others seen Sarah follow me into the bathroom? Or had any of them heard us? I felt incredibly anxious, but the light was off. More

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