She wandered across the landing. There was a chink in the door of the spare room. She looked through and her stomach did a somersault when she saw Fel...city. She was just wearing a bra, panties and white hold-ups. She had a beautiful, shapely bottom and her boobs looked lovely and pert. Laura had only ever seen girls her own age like that. Felicity was 29. Her body was perfect. Not too skinny, but just right. Her belly was flat, with just the one little ripple. If she had any cellulite on her. The wheel would land on one of about four different mental images. One image she had grown fond of was seeing Felicia slurping down the potent concoction of caffeinated jizm while Gretchen savored the moment she could, hesitating before departing her office to watch. Another was the thought of, one day, informing Felicia’s well-established laundry list of corporate detractors, enemies, and conspirators that she had sucked down mugfulls of cum on the daily. Third, the transcendent moment of. More

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