I went fishing. When I felt something like hair, I gasped. There were two floggers or lashes. I was not sure of the technical term. Wound through the ...trap of one flogger was a string, with a piece of paper attached. It was a baggage claim ticket for a bus line. It was not what I wanted to do right then, but that’s life. We drove to the bus depot to pick up the bag, which proved the correct term. It was a large gym bag. The zipper was locked, but Christine had the key on a string around her. My breathing stopped. Then, when her fingers slipped inside my panties, my body shook and I failed to reign in my moan. Helen chuckled while her fingers shamelessly delved through my folds and found only wetness. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed all your leering stares.” She moved her fingers in a circle, and my hips had no chance but to join the dance. “I bet you’ve toyed with your drippy snatch time and time while you thought of me, you little pervert, haven’t you?” I tried not to answer,. More

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