She went back to the bedroom, pulled on the clothes of her counterfeit self: White stockings, a tight green mini-dress and matching shoes. Cheap costume-jewellery earrings and necklace. Returning to the bathroom, she applied the mascara and eyeshadow and lip gloss that completed her look, the look of a fallen woman fit for the wickedest street in Britain.The doorbell rang just as she put on the finishing touches. She took a breath, centred herself. Went to the door and opened it. Smiled brightly for the expected guest. “Alright, Bill.”“Alright, bab.” The man on the stoop was big, shambolic and pock-faced, with an endearingly hangdog look about him and a day’s growth of stubble on his jowls. He smiled at her, showing yellowed teeth. Proffered a scrunched-up copy of the Evening Mail in one hand and a paper cup full of tea in the other. “Thought you could do with some news and a kipper tie.”“Ta, love.” She took the offerings and nodded him in. “Come on, then.”D.I. Bill Watling strolled. She began to breathe harder and harder until she was moaning with every thrust of my fingers, and my tongue working on her clit. I slid one finger out and began to play with her "pee-hole" and she began to come.I could feel the spasms against my fingers, tightening and loosening and tightening again and again. I continued to finger fuck her, getting hot again my self from her arousal. All of a sudden the spasms become incredibly hard and tight around my fingers, and the finger that was busy with her pee-hole began to feel damp. I couldn't believe it! She was going to squirt! She was breathing hard and moaning. She told me not to stop, that she was getting ready to come again, stay in the same spot. so, i did as I was told, and the next thing I felt was wetness as she squirted all over my hand, and the spasms of her pussy as she came again.I kissed her between her legs, licking up her juice as I did so. She flipped me over for one lat round, but this much more gentle, and slow. As she.
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