She ate pizza with a fork and bib, had a small Pomeranian that she took when traveling to Paris, a wardrobe full of designer clothes. And she was a to...al fucking slut. Every afternoon after lunch she would walk into the nearly deserted city below her estate, stripping into her $100 lingerie and playing with her pussy until she was completely satisfied. It was rare that any one passed through the city, but the thought that someone might walk by and see her rigorously fingering her pussy, her. Though the water has gone cold, we are still steaming from the friction. Slowly Molly disengages and turns towards me with a big grin.“Good morning, Michael.”“Good morning, Molly. Would you like some breakfast?”“Sounds wonderful; let me dry off and get dressed. I’ll meet you downstairs in ten.”Ten minutes later Molly comes down the stairs, dressed for the day, with energy in her stride. This is one of the major differences between her and Diane that pops up on occasion. When Diane said ten. More

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