. .’ ‘Be quiet Mike,’ I said, ‘this is between Jo and me. She’s got to understand that you’re not like other men. Take off your shirt.’ ...��It’s all right, Lena, you don’t need to do this,’ he said. ‘Take it off, now. I want her to see what I did to you.’ I wanted to see myself as well. Was it as bad as I remembered? He took off his shirt and we looked at him. I felt terrible and Jo’s mouth hung open. His chest was covered in several deep scratches one of which had torn his nipple. Some had drawn. My man followed, now curious as to why I needed a whole bottle of wine, fantasies filling his head as I let him ponder it. Stepping into a small room with a twin bed, I sighed, it would have to do, at least it was unoccupied. Smiling with that good talk, I smashed the wine top on the oak dresser, having forgot a corkscrew. Laying out on the bed, I wiggled out of my lace panties, happy when my wet pussy felt a breath of cooling breeze. Now only in garter and heels I waited for him to poke his. More

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