My g-string undergarments where rubbing up and down my labia as I was walking towards the table. I was certain that my pussy scent would end up soilin... through my skirt. “Must…learn…self…control,” reciting in my head while each footstep clinked onto the floor with my stiletto heels. While trying to refrain from pussy juices gushing in my panties, I sat next to Jake. Abruptly, I felt a slight hand pulling my black pencil skirt, slowly. My thighs were quivering, yet he was nonchalant. I had to. My fingers did brush across the top of her bush several times. My hands continued up her legs further than ever. The atmosphere had changed. There was an aroma of sexual excitement in the room. Rhodas nipples were peaked and her crotch had become damp on these later sessions. Rhoda moaned a lot and was very satisfied. She never stopped me from moving closer and closer to her pussy. She truly enjoyed it. This went on for several years and then abruptly ceased. Harold passed away from cancer. He. More

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