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Her hands slid back up his legs, over his knees, and between and up his thighs to surround and clutch his bag. He groaned, leaned against the washer behind him, and put his hands on her pale bare shoulders. Then she had him in both hands rolling and kneading it. She moaned softly, and her lips made a tattoo of red lipstick just behind the ridge.

She felt him quicken as she delicately nursed on his tip and guided him with both hands. He stretched and groaned. She slipped one hand down his length to his base and cuddled around it. Her other hand picked up stroking him as she slid him from her mouth, just in time. His first spurt went in her hair. He grunted as the second wave shot from his manhood and splattered on her cleavage just above the camisole. Then he was thrashing and his honey just went every which-a-way. On her skirt, arm, her cami, and finally as he subsided, it oozed over her hands. His breathing gradually eased. And Dianne realized she was soaking wet, down there, and not from his honey.

"Oh my!" She looked around, "We better get you dressed." She smiled at him, he was still speechless. She wiped his honey off on her thighs and skirt, which was nearly up to her waist. Then she pulled up and buttoned his pants. Kissed him through his shorts, leaving a smudge of lipstick on the zipper cover.

He was about to ask if he could take her home for the night when she screamed, well half screamed. A man, probably in his mid40s was standing 6 feet away, openly masturbating. He had not said a word and they had been so preoccupied they had not seen him come in. She sat there, deer-in-headlights eyes, her skirt up so far that her moist sheer bikini showed clearly. Her new friend had an urge to be a hero that he stifled. He was too mellow from the massive cum he had just had. And he was mesmerized by the large dark skinned man unabashadly manipulating what had to be 10 inches long.

His voice was gentle but somehow demanding, "Am sorry to frighten you, but I have watched a lot of sex movies, even extreme porn in my life. None of it can touch what I just saw and heard. Lady, you are one gorgeous and sexy woman, absolutely elegant. I'm willing to pay you, cash, a lot, for you to do even half of what you just did to him. Dianne nearly fainted. And could not remember being so wet in a very long time. She looked up at her new friend, whose mouth was open, dumbly.

"Darling," she said softly, "please keep an eye on the door, and jump up and down if anyone else darkens it. Pretty please." And to the stranger, "I'm Dianne, so nice to meet you." She beckoned him with her index finger and he walked, still fondling himself all the while, over to her.

She looked up at him, and then at his manhood. "dear, it's kind of my fault that you are, so... anyway, I will pretend I never heard a word about money." She took him in both hands and began to fondle him, running her nails along the length, scratching at his base. He leaned back, enjoying, sizing her up. Then she began stroking him intently, teasing, testing his endurance. And she realized she wanted it somewhere else. Her left hand wandered down his leg to hers. Dianne parted her legs and began touching in her garden, then rubbing circles over her responding pearl. She was suddenly very dizzy with feelings welling up. Her excitement, lust, was taking him to the brink, his sap was rising.

Her right hand pulled on him, it was almost automatic now, and she whimpered as she felt herself wavering. Then she was momentarily still, her back arched and legs spread even more. She held a death grip on his manhood, which had began weeping. Then she tensed, and the waves came, Her soprano cries went from his ears to his groin and he grunted and a glob of cream drooled out and fell on her skirt. Then it shot, splattering on her shoulder and her arm and camisole right over a breast.

Her friend-become lookout rubbed himself through his pants. He groaned and tried to cum again, but fell back. The others didn't even notice.

Dianne wiped the

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