I scowled when the brazier hung loosely from my chest. My ass was to die for, I knew, but my breasts left something to be desired. They were nice; B-cups mature and beautifully shaped, but I couldn’t help but amateur feel like I’d been cheated. Mom had a chest that could act as a life raft in case of emergency. “First-world problems, Em.” I told my reflection, then grabbed my cumshot tits, pushed them together, and tightened the corset. There; magic. Nobody knows the better until the outfit comes off, and by then, there’s no turning back. You’re mine, hypothetical male escapade, MINE! Mwhuahahahaha! I hoisted the skirt up my ass, pulled the stockings after, and stepped into the high-heels that forced my ample backside to bulge from atop my thighs. I took out my ‘I-suck-dick’ red lipstick, and applied it liberally and slowly to my parted lips. “Would you fuck me?” I asked the mirror in my best Buffalo Bill impression, “I’d fuck me. I’d fuck me hard.” I felt good. I spun on my heel, and strutted toward the cat, who ironically did not appreciate my catwalk. Well, fuck her. I was sexy sushi, and sexy sushi don’t need no cat. I worked my shoulders as I marched lasciviously down the hallway, popping each hip, pretending I was parting the sea of people at a party, and all eyes were on me. “That’s right, bitches.” I grinned at a poster of Lebron James, “Emily Huston just walked in, and all your thirsty boyfriends wanna get a drink of this pussaaaaAAAAAAAH!” And oral fate punished me for my hypothetical arrogance by making me forget there were stairs in front of me. I hit each step with a punctuation of breath, tumbling head-over-heels until I was sprawled in the kitchen, my skirt draped over my head, my beautiful California Roll headdress sacrificed to provide blowjob cushion for my stupid fucking brain. I lay there for a moment, exposed and in pain, wondering if dying was preferable to getting up from this. A fervent knock on the kitchen door confirmed that yes, dying was indeed the better option. “Emily?!” Mrs. Johnson’s muted voice screamed from the other side of the glass door, “Oh my god, Emily, are you OK?” You can kill me now, God. I thought grimly. REBECCA I knew I still had it. I was two years shy of forty, and had lived a life of drugs, unprotected sex, and worst of all, rampant tanning, but damn it, I still had it. My skin had hardly aged at all, my hair was still its luxuriant strawberry-blonde, and only the faintest stretchmarks marred my ample bust. I had an ass you could balance a wine bottle on, and I currently had it stuffed into the tightest pair of Levi’s money could buy. Genetics had been kind to me, but that wasn’t how I knew I still had the all-important “it.” No, my retention of “it” was confirmed by the eyes of the junior varsity football team, which seemed to be magnetized to my heart-shaped asset. Her amateur bound wrists were looped over the back of his neck as her eyes met his hungry gaze. Girard, meanwhile, ended up cumming in her at least half a dozen more times. “She says she has cramps, your highness,” the assistant said, “she’s going to the sauna to warm her muscles.” blowjob Whistles and high-five are constantly exchanged as guys vie for bragging rights. Unfortunately, Laurel’s top went pretty high and I could just see the very top of her breasts. She breathed hard once again, “That’s better!” “Huh. Two more shots of hormones and you'll be mature ready cumshot for the night." “Issue a warning. Do you know when Matt will be here?” gets down behind him and reaches a bottle of lotion She felt the leather cuffs as he put them on her ankles then connected them to a spreader bar. Mmm, honey, that's nice. My libido began to deny his gender once again. I’d like oral to see what you were screaming about”. [You think it prudent for us to know right now? “At sheering time.” I think they all went off at once, if such a thing is possible.