“My skirt’s very loose,” she whispered. I’ve had enough sex to last me a lifetime. A rough tongue ran round and round the knob, till I would have cried out with the ecstatic agony if my mouth had not been gagged by Rose’s pussy. “Go higher.” My hands went higher of their own accord, the flimsy skirt pulled away from her buns, and I was holding them, squeezing them, exploring them, my fingers probing the crack between. I had no idea, but surely neither possibility could be that bad? One of the sisters, Monica had to reach across in front of me to take my empty plate, and I found my face thrust against the softness of a creamy globe whose perfume roused me almost as much as the sight of the nipple that peeped above her neckline. “Well, look at Tessa!” Rose said. Monica came dancing across to us. She’s masturbating herself, I thought, using my cock as a wanking post.
