The man stood, smiled again and excused himself from my company. But in leaving, he motioned to the bartender, laid another $10 on the bar and told the man I would need another drink. I looked down and realized I had slopped half my drink across the bar. Shit, damn, I hate it when I make an ass of myself. I honestly hate it. I watched the remainder of the races through the ninth from my chair in the box. Laughing, talking with my friends and all the time stealing glances at hat man in the box across the isle. Tearing a page from the program, I found a pen in my friend’s purse and wrote a simple note. My cell number, along with the words, “I need a ride.” Leaving the box, I eased across the isle, grabbed the hand rail on his side and, as he turned, I casually passed my hand over his suit jacket pocket. Please, God, let it be a real pocket and not a fake was all I could think. The note slid down into the cloth and I smiled as I went on up the steps. The 12 th race came, and went and we. She jerked as the thumb sat in the center of her anus and began to press forward, the lubricated digit too powerful to be stopped by her clenched anus. She cried out as her anus was suddenly forced to accept the huge finger, the digit entered the hot depths of her rectum, her anus clung to the flesh as it stretched painfully wide to accept it. A similar gasp by Ashley, her hips suddenly shot forward as she was similarly impaled on Mr. Van Dorn's finger."Relax, Ashley, you'll get used to it," Mr. Van Dorn now pushed his finger in and out her clenched hole, the large finger made way for larger things, his cock jerked in his pants at the thought of being sheathed in her hot, tight asshole. His finger burned her back passage. It was so large, her anus stretched to take it inside. Even the lubricant he used failed to stop the burn as the finger pushed in and out in a fucking motion, a precursor to what she knew would be next. His cock."Keep fucking," Dr. Lenox ordered the girls, the men.
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