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With my head tilted back and my face turned toward the ceiling, I coaxed Jo to straddle my shoulders with her legs spread and her feet on the floor by my hips. I was looking right up to her shaved dripping crotch. Dave put down his camera and gripped Jo’s upper arms to steady her. With her short legs and my long torso, she hardly had to squat at all to place her pussy square on my face. I began to tongue fuck Jo and was getting hotter myself listening to her increasingly loud moans. She was vibrating so violently that it was everything Dave could do to keep her steady. I moved my lips to her pink throbbing clit and slid my thumb deep into her pussy. With saliva and pussy juice running down my face and neck and onto my chest, I moved my tongue aft toward her pouting asshole. Jo seemed to take the hint and, with her hands on each ass cheek, spread herself wide for easier access. I forced my tongue as far into her rectum as I could and began to tongue fuck her ass. Jo started. I’ve always had a recurring fantasy in my masturbational mind about showing up at a couple’s home in full dressy drag – the stockings, suspenders, garter, bra over tits, my gorgeous pink panties cradling and cuddling my baby cock. You meet me at the door in just a robe, your naked body teasing me with just a peak of your bare skin. We kiss and you notice my very girly perfume, it’s a scent that you have always yearned for, and it brings a passion between your legs as I reach inside your robe…for the loveliest of rock hard cocks! I just love to stroke a man’s first boner, that moment when it goes from limp to raging hard aching for it’s impending release inside a fairy ass cunt like mine or your wife’s slimy wet pussy. I’ve wanted to suck you for some time but I know that your wife awaits, her bare body anxiously breathing the air of impending sex. My panties are bulging hard as I remove the outer layers of the dress that allowed me to make the trip with social grace and style. Oh.
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That’s not right, no fucking way is it, she thought, turning her attention to the view out the window – it was still raining. Still holding the letter, her arms had dropped to her sides and her usually virile posture, slouched. She wasn’t really thinking about anything now, just staring blankly into the mist. Some feeling returned to her stomach in the form of a churning, sickening feeling, and her eyes had started to well with tears. There was an overwhelming weakness and she had to sit down, but she wasn’t sure if she should to go to the toilet first. The flight of stairs leading to the bathroom made the decision for her – she was too weak to make it and besides, she couldn’t care if she’d pissed herself right there by the window, not now. She dragged herself over to the sofa where she’d, earlier, pleasured herself through memory. Now, there was no pleasure, and no memory of pleasure. She dared to look at the letter again, hoping what she’d seen might be gone. Her chin quivered,.

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