‘You don’t have to tell me,’ he murmured softly, the concern in his face as he looked up at her, almost setting her off again. ‘I’m sorry,�... she started again, ‘I’ve wet your shirt and ruined your handkerchief, and I must look blotchy. Thank goodness I don’t wear much makeup.’ He held his hand up to stop her ‘You still look stunning. My shirt will dry, and my handkerchief will wash.’ She managed a watery giggle that turned into another sob, and she cried again quietly, the tears just running. Roger would finger me until I came (or gave up and pretended to come) and then I'd suck his dick for him. Before long, I was taking all his load in my mouth and swallowing it down. I can't say I ever got to like it, but I preferred that to the mess. It was just... neater, somehow. And Roger definitely approved.That held him for a while, but after a couple of months, he began to hint that maybe we should move on to the next stage. He didn't say it directly at first, but there was only one more. More

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