The sight that greeted Art in the mirror was not a pretty one.His once sleek and styled shoulder length hair was now matted, pushed uphigh at the back...like a mad, ginger mane. His eyes were smudged. Blackstreaks ran down his face fom the corners. Had he cried last night? Hedidn't remember crying. One set of false lashes clung, determined, to hislid, the other long gone.He padded back over the bed and fell down hard on the soft surface of hismatress. He was still wearing his bra. He didn't even. Then as I cup his balls with one hand and slide my thumb and a finger along his erection he is almost screaming. “That was so fucking good Sarah, you are the very best,” he moans as he masturbates for us.Thirty minutes later we are all refreshed after showering together in our four-head shower. I enjoyed watching the two men flaunting their cocks for each other without saying a word or touching each other as I asked each of them in turn to wash my back.After we dry off my man Roger is sitting. More

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