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I guess everybody decided I was “his” for the next half hour. Nobody hollered at me to come help them. I was in muscle heaven watching Paul build his already perfect body right in front of my eyes. I kept taking plenty of chances watching his pouch strain as it tried to contain his cock and balls. Anybody else would have considered this obscene. It was clear from the glances over our direction, however, that most all guys acted like he was a feast of male muscular perfection. The eyes of some. Soft cheesy music was playing, as if taken from a porn movie. Not surprisingly, anyone in the room would be left with images of people fucking erotically.Further back from the bed was a spot where the dim light barely reached. A man wearing a business suit sat on a formal chair, as if waiting for a movie premiere to begin. Beside him was a small glass table, also barely visible in the darkness. Two champagne glasses sat on top of the table, and the aroma of bubbling champagne and lust permeated. Every Sunday morning at 8:30. All by himself with the paper. He’s older than me by far, silver-haired and well-worn in his jeans and his turquoise corduroy shirt. But he’s good-looking in that tough cowboy sort of way, and he’s strong and straight-backed, and I watch him drink his coffee and read the paper, and I think about him.I dress better than I need to on Sunday morning’s at 8:30, putting a little extra effort into my outfit. I make an effort, and I think he notices. I think he knows I’m. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Chris walking closer but my orgasm is too near making me close my eyes as I rode on Lauren’s fingers. “Dont Stop, Dont stop!” I shout as I feel a tongue press against my clit, sucking it at, curling itself around it. My orgasm is building but I need it to be over, my body is so tense, so worn. I open my eyes to see Craig standing a foot away stroking his cock as he looks down at my body, I watch his hand move up and down his cock and reach for it. Taking him.
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