Mark’s wet cock hung limply between his thighs, his face was twisted with pleasure and perhaps a bit of pain. It didn’t matter to Eric whose eyes ...ere still closed, though he held Mark’s hips moving the slightly smaller man to the beat of his pleasure. ‘Fuck him,’ she whispered. It was a command she said mostly to herself. If they heard her, the pair gave no indication. Watching them fuck was beautiful and she couldn’t resist dropping her hand down between her legs and rubbing her clit, wet. She surveyed her immediate surroundings, making a quick reconnaissance. There was the leather couch, the French chair, the painting behind the counter of a weird looking dude on horseback, the round stairway, the rug with diamond shapes, and the peculiarly rare desk bell. Everything was just like Rebeca had described it. There was nobody at the counter, as expected. Before she rang the bell, Clara stuck her head into the adjacent room where breakfast was still being served. Two girls were. More

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