Her name was Carole, she was French, and hot as fuck. Whenever I was round there I would flirt with Carole, my mind racing about how I would have like... to have been balls-deep in her pussy. She was average height, with perky tits, fantastic legs, dark hair and eyes, and a naughty smile. One day, Anne and Carole were at work and I was home alone, horny as hell. A thought occurred to me, and with my cock absolutely rock hard, I went into Carole's bedroom and went through her laundry basket. The rent ... I paid.She designs imaginary clothes for imaginary people on the internet and gets paid with REAL money ... but help out with the internet costs? Not on your life.It's not my fault she's really good at it."Bring me back something yummy," she said. The unspoken was... use your own money.The limo ride to Island Home airport was luxury personified."Booze is in the pulldown between the seats, Mr. Austin," the cutie in leather said just before the divider sealed me off from her.I. More

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