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Bend over the arm of the sofa, Annie lie down with your legs over the arm either side of EmmaI needed the lube, Michael would you pass me the little blue bottle on the table pleaseMichael strode over to the table his cock straining at the denimHe brought it over to me, Michael could you lubricate my ‘cock’ with it please. Of course, he repliedHang onto it as I’ll probably need it againMichael returned to his ringside seatWith the girls in position I slipped the cock end into Emma’s arseI slowly. To drink. You said you had some good stuff in your room." Why here, why me?" What do you mean?" There were at least fifty men in that ballroom. One of them was probably your husband. Right?" Yeah, so..." It looked like some corporate function. A Christmas Party? You should be on your husband's arm, laughing at his jokes, impressing his coworkers, sucking up to his boss." I'd rather be sucking up that big cock you pressed against me when we danced." Why mine?" I saw you enter the room. Your eyes. The interns were nervous as the roar outside rose and we had some buffeting as we dropped lower into the atmosphere and gravity returned. We peaked at close to five-gees and then felt like we were flying as the craft made banking turns to slow us further. Close to ten minutes later, I felt the nose of the craft rise and then we stalled before dropping to the ground. It was a rougher landing than an orbiter, but gentler than a pure rocket or parachute landing. I waited a minute to ensure we were. I moved a bit off centre, and Ron was now between Jean’s legs. Jean again with eyes shut tight, hips bucking up and down off the bed really high; her head thrashed from side to side, her fingers were a blur over her clit. Jean suddenly opened her eyes and looked at Ron, “Get you face down here you prick?” Then a minute later, angrily to Ron she said, “Don’t you fucking move, you prick, don’t you dare fucking move.” She let go of her clit, placed her hands onto her knees, she lifted her hips.
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