Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Miss Kelly, I need to be milked,” Jack blurts as I again negotiate the George Washington Bridge.
“No, Jack. Next week you’re scheduled for the party in Soho. I’ll want you bursting with juices for your new friends. Meanwhile I’ll have you well worked on the treadmill tomorrow. That will help.”
For an inordinate length of time at Miss Susan’s ‘bridge party’, I pressed Jack’s amazingly firm erection toward the floor while the trollop Katrina licked and sucked, deep throating Jack at Miss Susan’s command, choking on his ten inches, bringing laughter from the skirted women receiving unending c*********s.
So much aware of the male anatomy, I learned long ago that a p***s cannot erupt when held at such an angle. I thought Jack was going to swoon, enduring for so long at
