Oh forget it, I'm not in the mood now. Bastard, fucking contract. And what about the five hundred pound 'personal appearance fee'? Are you telling me ... actually have to go and meet him? Thirty minutes? I've got to spend thirty minutes listening to his snivelling shit as he undresses me with his eyes? No, I can't send the money back. Because I've fucking spent it. Not that you noticed, I could be wearing a fucking bin bag for all you care. Don't 'honeybun' me. And no I don't want a snuggle.. Mr. Meat was dribbling pre-cum again. She grabbed it, ran her forefinger around and through the wetness on the head. And then sucked on her finger.Then she noticed Lisa just standing in the hallway, looking at us. I think Becky winked at her.She laughed "Think about if you want a titty fuck before or after, Ry." She flipped up her dress to give me a panty shot, and ran down the hall.I wondered if that 4-hour erection warning applied if you were getting teased with a rubber band around your. More

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