I liked it. Too much. Maybe I was made for tartdom, maybe those dreams of being a self-sufficient respectable woman were hogwash. I liked them watching. I liked the supposed filth.
And after I removed Carol’s stockings with my lips and teeth, she sat on a kitchen chair, my mouth sliding ankle to crotch. Pulling aside her pants, I licked her vulva in the most exaggerated and unsubtle manner possible.
Our host then received our breasts, delivered jointly, bras unfastened, straps slipped from shoulders, and cups removed to allow our endowment to cradle his cheeks, the man turning one way and then the other tongue out, licking.
Carol’s pants crawled over consummate hips a fingertip beneath each side. The dips between hips and pubic mound unsullied, the crowning glory of blonde tussle capped
