When the men withdrew, they trailed a thick, lurid drool of jism that dribbled down the inside of Jamaica’s shapely thighs, thighs that twitched spa...tically in the aftermath of orgasm. S squeezed her own big thighs together in a desperate and unsuccessful attempt to still the fuck fever boiling in her psyche. She knew her stickiness was soiling her skirt and the seat. I watched S with detached amusement despite my own arousal. She’d be out of her mind with fuckhunger by the time she finished. ‘How disappointing it must’ve been for you.’ ‘Oh, he wanted more,’ she continued with her gossip session as she poured herself a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, ‘but he and I are a lot alike.’ She swept coy eyes at the other woman. ‘We like our lovers wild and we like variety. We’re not the marryin’ kind, know what I mean? It’s like with Angie.’ ‘Who?’ ‘Junior’s ex-fiancée,’ she said before she had a sip of the orange juice, removed the glass from her lips, and popped eyebrows. ‘Fresh. More

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