Sighing, she flicked the kettle on to boil.“We need better alcohol,” she whined.“I need any alcohol,” replied Polly the Preggo.“I’m hungry...” pouted Bitchy Barbara, opening and crashing closed cupboard doors (try saying that after a hard day at work (a)). As she searched through the cupboards looking for something to nibble on, the kettle boiled itself to a gigantic climax, and finally flicked itself off. Bitchy Barbara wished she was flicking herself off, too. Or, better, that Polly the Preggo. She pinched and scratched, putting on a show as if she knew he was watching. He grunted in raw pleasure as he stroked himself all the harder. The speed became a blur as she slipped her hand between her moist petals. Don could see them glistening from the perch of his window. He loved everything about her. Her soft mounds were at the front of his fantasies. He wanted so badly to feel his cock rubbed between those perfect breasts. He would pull and play with her nipples as she stared up into his. More

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