One n the gardeners still sipping his mug of tea walked behind the restrained Mrs Brooking and started to slide his free hand up and down the back of ...er stocking thighs. His hand went higher and higher up under her tartan skirt. I could see by the way Mrs Brooking was thrusting her ass that he must be rubbing that bitch’s cunt through her knickers. Then watching his forearm move forwards and back he must have slipped his fingers past her knickers and was now fingering her cunt and judging by. I was horrified at this technology. "WHAT THE FUCK." I said, not even shouting it. It was more like I had formed a mental illness and had started fumbling around my words."Yeah, yeah, just get on with it." The light within the cloud pulsed with every syllable the voice spoke. It was almost as if the cloud was speaking."WHAT THE FUCK." I repeated, seemingly all I could say."Christ, mate. Use your words." I realized the voice was a male, with an English accent. The goddamned Brits made this. More

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