Before he left, Heather asked about a bathroom and excused herself momentarily. Bruce sat for a few minutes, his pants getting tighter, as he wondered...what Heather might be up to in the bathroom. When she returned his eyes grew wider. To outward appearances nothing had changed, but his eyes could now spy the hint of an outline where her nipples raised the dress in a shimmering circle. Heather grinned and gave a little jiggle in the quiet corner where they were seated. The movement of her. Catherine fingered the sensitive spot where his swollen crown loomed out from the shaggy sheath. That huge wedge of hot meat pulsed, ballooning. More spunk oozed from his cleft and circled sluggishly down the slope of his cockhead, all frothy and white against the dark-red meat. A glob of slime ran onto her hand, in the web between her thumb and forefinger. The stuff was blistering hot. What a fucking thrill it would be when that horny beast blew his balls, the woman thought, trembling with. More

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