M. and we were gathered around my friends kitchen table. There were five of us in total. The four of them had been out the night before still somewhat...recovering from the nights adventure. My good friend Chris had just celebrated his birthday. He also was still recovering from the fuck he had too. There was some generic rock music playing on the stereo and my other friend Tom offed up some drinks. It was his house and being a proud Irish man he had quite the selection of alcohol to choose from.. Tommy leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "You want to see teasing?" and then he purposefully flicked the mushroom head of his cock back and forth against her plump cunt lips and clitoris as fast as he could move it. The response was instantaneous as she gushed what felt like a gallon of nectar all over his cock. She moaned loudly, muttering words he couldn't make out. "What was that?" he teased back. She rose herself off the lounger and twisted around and hissed, "I said ‘FUCK ME, you. The only time I was caught in anything nicer was if the occasion called for it. That day, for instance, I did only a bit better than my usual with light brown shorts and a baby doll style tank top. Even with shorts I wore sneakers, I cursed the very existence of flip-flops. Swooning over guys was not my style, or a past time. My DVD collection was filled with far more horror movies, action adventure and thrillers than chick flicks, Stephen King took up most of my book shelf, and only real. For two days I rested, took some aggressive physical therapy, and practiced being sick, weak, and dying, under Kate's watchful eyes. They were fanatically determined that I not make any mistake in my behavior that would give away the game. Everything hinged on Bradford deciding he could kill me himself, or ordering someone on his staff to kill me, which would open the floodgates of an investigation that might get to the people really pulling the strings.Though Kate had medical training, she was.
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