Chelsea continued to lay on the padded table. “Chelsea get up we should get out of here. I’ll move this stuff when Michelle goes to bed.” Jon tu...ned to head out the door. “No!” Chelsea responded, which made Jon stop and turn around. Chelsea was now sitting up on the table with her shirt unbuttoned. Jon was caught off-guard by the cleavage that stared back at him. “Chelsea… what…” This was all Jon could mutter before Chelsea continued to unbutton her top. Apparently she had quite the kink for. As I travelled home, I had plenty on my mind as I reflected on the day's events. Connie's ass-gymnastics had been spectacular; Fran's reaction was lower-key (as indeed Fran was a far less demonstrative person than Connie) but the rapt, doe-eyed, goofy gaze had been so utterly uncharacteristic of her, and so similar to the look that Connie had given me, that they must have had a common cause. And now I came to think of it, I had noticed Wendy giving me the same sort of look at home that morning. More

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