His pinky finger occasionally touches my now wet pussy, and I am only thinking about mounting him when we get home. He has other plans though. “Take...off your clothes,” he says completely out of the blue. “What?” I reply, somewhat surprised by his request. “Take off your clothes,” he repeats. “I’m not going to ask again.” I sit in silence for a moment, contemplating the risk. It isn’t dark really, and there are other cars on the road, and we are passing by the occasional house. This isn’t a real. David watched in a near panic as his sister-in-law gave him a wicked grin and leaned over him. She spit twice on his chest before advising Diane to back up. “This might sting a little David,” she said with a laugh and then she said to her sister: “With candle wax, height and moisture are everything.” She then dribbled a little wax into the first puddle of spit on his body from a good three feet up. “From up here, he barely feels anything. But when you pour it from less than a foot up.” She. More

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