How do you descend stairs gracefully like this? It’s not the wibbly-wobbly stilettos or fully-fashioned stockings rustling with each step. It’s not the figure-hugging dress as my veil of respectability. No, it’s my delicious lovers warping my mind and body.
Vanessa will have my dripping wet snatch; her toy is in it now. Sebastian’s got my tightest hole; he’s buzzing it like an old-fashioned pager. Gripping the bannister, I suppress a groan. From the table opposite, via their apps, they deliver more rapturous bliss.
I just need to get through dinner with my parents.
