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She disinfected the head of my soon very erect penis and inserted a size 20 foley catheer until it pushed through the urethra past my bladder's sphincter and let loose a gush of urine into the urine bottle I had been using. That felt strangely rather nice. I was so horny and d**gged up( at least it seemed so) at this point that she could do anything to me and I was ready to go. Commenting that I had to release one more bit of fluid to finish draining my pelvic of it's excess, she placed some KY jelly on her gloves and fingers to insert two left fingers in my anus against my prostate ang used her right hand to stroke my erect and leaking penis. The clesvage shot of her braless bosom as she leaned over me added to my exctement. My moans statrted to exceed the threshold of propriety even with the door closed and divider in front of my cubicle.All of the sudden Jane drove 3 fingers into my rectum and vigorously stroked my swollen prostate.As she did,with her right hand she squeezed my. Trixie was winning the battle—at this point I would have paid any amount of money for her to keep going. Trixie was wary and stood anytime my breathing became labored, removing her tantalizing touch from my body until I had stepped back from the brink. Trixie might have won the opening salvo, but I was not routed yet—I had a strategy toward my overall objective of, well, blowing my load. I had selected Trixie because she was a voluptuous. A skinny girl might look good in panties, but as she rubs her bony ass into your crotch you soon realize that crushing pain in that particular location does not excite you (unless, of course, you're into that sort of thing). Trixie's soft ass and tits felt wonderful and the growing pleasure emanating from my groin began to turn the tide of our 'battle of the lap dance' in my favor.During the third song, Trixie made a costly tactical error. One of her tits brushed against my cheek as she leaned over and pushed me over the edge. I won, I won, I.
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Maybe you’ve never quite forgotten that once upon a time we knew each other rather well. Yes?’When I said nothing, she went on, ‘And therefore I might be someone safe to talk to about it.’It was such a shrewd assessment after such a brief reunion, I found myself unable to deny it. I looked at Teresa and she was smiling. ‘Talk is good, Billy,’ she said, ‘and talk we will. But it’s not the only kind of therapy.’She drew me closer with the arm round my shoulder and put her mouth to mine. We kissed. She broke away to say, ‘Don’t hold back, Billy. Please. This isn’t just for you.’Although I didn’t realise it then, In those few seconds my whole life had begun to change direction. The second kiss was different, not only from her initial approach but different from the exploratory exchanges of our college days. Now there was hunger and urgency, probing tongues and whimpering sounds. Two mature women in the throes of a passion that demanded fulfilment. Was this really me? Us? When finally we.

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