Marcie,” she groaned, glancing behind her at the bathroom door. Any second, someone could walk in.That was hot. My pussy clenched, tingles racing up...to the tip of my futa-dick.“You can’t do this. This is wrong?”“So wrong,” I moaned, rubbing harder at her pussy. “Now don’t lie to me, Heather. You have a hot, little cunt. It’s just so juicy for my big, girl-cock.”She bit her lip.“Answer me!” I snapped, putting all my authority in my voice as I loomed over her.“Yes, Ms. Marcie!” she squeaked,. I couldn't place the accent, which is unusual for me, possibly Irish, but I'm not sure. I looked down, trying not to see the tight vee of her blue bikini bottoms, nor the impression of her pubes in the wet fabric, nor the stray, dark hairs peeping from the groin. I passed her the bottle, and her hand slid a little across mine. I smiled and tried to figure out how to stay longer. Then she did it for me."These bloody showers never stay on long enough, do they!" she said. "Would you mind holding. More

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