I was awoken from my steamy train of thoughts with the realization of his finger running up my inner thigh, I neither jumped or reacted, I just looked...down on him as his finger traced the outline of my pussy, my swelling lips giving me the outline of the perfect 'Camel Toe', 'How often do you masturbate', he asked me as his finger poked my lips, his pushing causing my panties to work into me, I groaned and lent onto him for support, 'Open your legs', and I slid one foot out of my pee onto drier. Her touch was softer but surer than either Jim’s (my b*****r) or Donny’s, and I was nearly overwhelmed by a heave of passion in my hips when she tenderly plucked at my hardened nipples. I giggled, mainly in an attempt to gain control of myself, and spoke, mainly to break the awkward silence of our heavy breathing, ‘Gee this is really nice, Susan, but it does seem weird, cause guys are always kissing me when they go for my tits.’ This was a feeble joke, not a hint, but Susan took it as a. More

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