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" Joann was so excited that she thought she wasgoing to have another uncontrolled pee. She had such adelicious feeling between her legs she wanted to...rubherself. She felt Delores' hand brushing her hair from herface. Her touch was so gentle it felt like the touch of abreeze. Joann's hands were roaming her body, touchingDelores' body, touching her tummy, her thigh and evenreaching around her body to feel her bottom. The nippleseemed to be much larger and even seemed to enlarge asshe sucked. She made me feel special, and her obvious enthusiasm towards me being black was an added component of that evenings experiences. I knew she was married, but neither of us brought that up. I'd met her husband (a much older white guy) several times across the fence, and I'd been surprised Megan would have married such an older man, and yet, I'd also sensed a kind of implicit, unspoken agreement between them; and agreement that had (perhaps) a certain openness to her having relationships with. “Ms. Sweeney, Bridget, hang on a second.” He said. Bridget turned to face him, and saw that Mr. Kennedy had taken off his coaching shirt and was wearing only a wife beater. His chiseled chest muscles strained against the thin cotton. She could see his six-pack through the shirt as well. Bridget felt the muscles in her pussy twitch in arousal, she could still feel the remnants of her afternoon escapade dried on her leg and hoped that it wasn’t as noticeable to him as it was to her. “Yes, Mr.. I leapt backwards off the bed and looked frantically around for my clothes. I hadn't pulled my jeans all the way on before she jumped off the bed and started pummeling my back and tried to knee me in the face as I bent over to retrieve my shirt and runners."Do you think I'm a whore?" she yelled. "Get out... get the fuck out!"I scrambled out of her room and stumbled down the stairs. Thankfully, the door slammed behind me and I made my way to the door in the dark hoping not to be further accosted.
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