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She must have been pretty drunk , telling from the delerious smile on her face. I was as hard as a rock watching my wife get her pussy eaten by a stranger. I couldn't wait to getter her home and finish the job. As my wife began to lift her ass off of the chair to meet his tongue, the other girls started chanting, "give it to her, give it to her", then it hit me that he must have wanted the condom to use on my wife, I felt relieved for a minute that the dispenser wasn't working. Until I saw that Sandi didn't really care at this point. She was trying to get his cock out from his little costume underwear. When she succeded the girls cheered and began chanting again. He lifted her from her chair and bent her over the table as he lifted her skirt to show her bare ass, he wasted no time inserting his cock in Sandi's drunken pussy. She was rocking back and forth in rythem begging for more. One of the other strippers walked aroung the other side of the table and laid his cock out for her to. I continued to thrust as my dick slid into my workmate’s pussy as we pressed tightly together. I jetted three, then four more gradually weaker spurts into her until I finally completely collapsed onto her.We lay on the washroom floor catching our breath for several minutes as we regain our composure from our mutual orgasm. Finally, I raised up separating our stomach and leaving a string of our cum connecting us. Diana opened her eyes weakly, smiling with her hand on my thigh she wiped our cum from my stomach with her other hand and spread it onto hers.“That was better than my husband’s?” Diana said.I looked up surprised.“Fuck yes I’m better than him,” I boasted.I sat on the floor and Diana knelt and reached for my dick. Her strokes were slow at first but she sped up on the pace progressively. Diana even used some weird movement with her hands that made me feel so good. Diana was a real pro at this and as my hunch suggested, she had a whore gene in her. I tried to stay quiet but I.
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He did the only thing he could think of. He sat next to her, and put his arm on the bench’s back. Dangerously close to her shoulders. His hands accidentally brushed her shoulders. He opened his mouth to speak, but never got a word out. For, with amazing strength and speed, Florence seized him, swept him off his feet and tossed him to the ground. He landed with a thud on the dusty grass. Hands on her hips, Florence Joseph glowered at him. In a voice like thunder, but thoroughly feminine, she told him that if he ever touched her again, she’d kill him. He looked into her eyes, which seemed to glow. And for the first time since that wild police chase across Massachusetts Highway 95, Sebastien felt fear. He mumbled an apology, still stunned by what she’d done to him. In high school he’d been both a wrestler and a football player. A tough guy. Yet somehow she just sacked him. Florence held her hand and pulled him to his feet. He sat on the bench, stunned. Without another word, she turned.

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