I went back to the the "service" I was giving, thrusting my tongue in and out of Helena's increasingly wet tunnel, until she screamed in pleasure and ...looded me with her juices. I lapped up her juices, but not until she was dry. I wanted to get into that wet warm paradise. I stood up, undid my jeans, and pulled out my rock hard cock. Without a word being said, Helena got off the table, turned and bent over it. I put one foot on a kitchen chair. She reached round and guided my head onto her. She wore tight denim jeans and white trainers, and carried a flowery bag which clearly contained her books and bits and pieces. Rosemary smiled shyly, used now to the curious effect of her appearance. It was not one for which she was at all grateful. Most men, when they spoke at all, spoke to her cleavage and not to her at all. Women also treated her strangely as if she were suffering from some cruel disability. Even her friends found it difficult to accommodate her breasts into their. More

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