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" Just tell me how," I whispered and Jessica smiled at me."Use your tongue," she replied."What are you two whispering about?" Sandra asked just after she had dropped my pants and socks to the floor."Nothing, Sugar Lips," Jessica replied and gave Sandra a real kiss.Jessica pushed Sandra down on the bed while still maintaining the kiss. Behind her back, Jessica gestured with my hand clearly indicating that I should pay attention to Sandra's crotch instead of their kissing. I smiled and moved my head towards Sandra's slit.I spread Sandra's thighs apart and she did not resist me. I could see the swollen lips of her pussy and with my inexperience, I hesitated for a few moments. Jessica noticed this and whispered something in Sandra's ear before she crawled towards me."Do you like the view?" Jessica asked as she reached me."Oh, god yes. But I'm a bit clueless about what to do," I confessed.Jessica turned her face toward Sandra and asked, "Do you mind if I use you to give Martin a crash. I cupped his balls, then kissed her bottom, then wickedly ran my tongue around her arsehole, then on it. She moaned, though whether it was from my attentions, of his fucking I had no way of knowing. He pulled out of her, and I grabbed his wet cock, sucking her juices from it, before replacing it in her. He was sweating now, fucking her hard, and relentlessly. I was wet with anticipation, knowing my turn would come soon. I lowered myself onto his erect cock, as he lay under me, then slowly fucked him. He lay back, arms behind his head, as I did all the work. I leant forward slightly, so my clit rubbed against his pelvic bone as I bottomed out. I soon felt that familiar feeling, the butterflies deep in the bottom of my stomach, which would travel through my body in a wave of almost indescribable pleasure, but not yet. Not yet. Sophie kissed me, as she played with my nipples, before reaching down to find my clit. Her fingers tipped me over the edge, and I came in a rush, loudly and.
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So, she set about doing just that. Next work day, she pulled on a bright red thong and skimpy red bra. Over them she wore the briefest of tops and a short, black skirt. She made sure that the skirt was short enough so that anyone standing behind her would be able to see her knickers if she bent over. She set off for the mansion. She knew that they would both be home; at least, Helen hoped that nothing had gone wrong as her whole plan depended on this. Eventually, Helen was ensconced in the living-room with Mr and Mrs Smythe. He was sitting poker-faced at his laptop and his wife was curled up on the sofa with an enormous book and a cup of coffee. Helen went into her act. “Do you want me to clean that leather settee?” she asked. “Of course,” Mrs Smythe replied. Helen bent down to get her cleaner; she made sure they could both see her red thong. She picked the bottle up, and then pretended to drop it, so she could give them another flash of her panties. She heard a “tut, tut” from She.

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