lisa (3)

Yes: “What now?”

Catherine’s cheeks were red, her upper chest flushed. She looked down at the floor.

But: it was time for Lisa to go home. As Catherine just sat there in her deshabille, the straps of her dress still down around her elbows, her breasts exposed, nipples puckered, easily half an inch long, I got Lisa’s coat and led her to the door.

When I came back I slid my fingers between Catherine’s legs, feeling her wetness. “You wanted her to touch you, didn’t you?”

She lowered her eyes and giggled defensively. “Yes. I was so afraid of not being honest.” She quivered as my fingers slid over her wet clit again and again.

“Well,” I said. “there’s always tomorrow.”

Then she shuddered, screamed and stuck her hands out as she came, humping spasmodically on my fingers, till she collapsed against the chair.