"I remember now. Hah, yeah. I was standing over there squeezing these and you couldn’t get it up." "Bullshit." "No, I swear. You were too pissed up... Said something about if I was so desperate for wood I should… wait, hand me your phone." Imogen scrolled through the gallery again with a clean knuckle and started laughing. "What?" She giggled. "See this one. What does that look like?" "It's blurred." "Yeah, but look closer." Ryan studied the screen. As he did so, Imogen twisted the display. “Her piss?” I nodded, standing over her, looking down and admiring her form; the way her ample, pliant tits wallowed to either side of her chest, the soft swell of her belly, her shapely legs clad in those black hold-ups. “Salty, bitter… intense.” “You enjoyed the deed?” As we spoke I began to imagine myself in the middle of the scenario she described. Inwardly, I teased myself, allowing my swollen bladder to believe I was about to relieve myself. I embraced the hot discomfort of the situation.. If not for the noise of the ocean, a passerby might have been quite alarmed by the sounds coming from her house.Any police investigating would have immediately called for the paramedics. They would have found a woman incoherent and locked in the throws of a constant orgasm; Jane's body quivering like gelatin, her hips thrusting wildly into the air, her nipples raw from her grabbing them, her skin raked with welts from her fingernails. Her hair matted and knotted. Tears pouring from her eyes.. Her every motion was artfully designed to capture the undivided attention of her target.Jake also had to admit that both Alfred and Michelle were charming and witty. If he had not known about them, he would have never guessed how evil they were. Michelle Tremont was so perfectly beautiful she appeared to be a living Barbie doll. She had honey blonde hair and cat’s eyes the color of indigo. A set of large, gravity-defying breasts cantilevered over a waist so tiny Jake reckoned he could span it.
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