The judge's bench is ebony, simple lines to emphasize the grain of the wood, an austere and powerful contrast to the deep red-brown glow of the mahoga...ny. The juror's chairs with the worn wine-colored cushions, the lawyers' tables, are some other dark wood, gleaming with age, miraculously unscarred, almost as if every generation of lawyers and clients and juries made up of one's peers were too afraid, or too awed, for the usual careless kicking and scratching and doodling with a knife-point. First one finger, Sammi relaxed, then seemed to suck in the rest of his finger. It slid in easily, so he tried two. Sammi grunted, moaned, then relaxed, and both fingers were soon plunging in and out of her hole. Brad was able to get a third in, plunging it roughly in and out as Sammi moaned and grunted with each thrust. Brad grew impatient and wanted, no needed to have his cock inside the beautiful creature, his "gurl". His "gurl?" He still couldn't comprehend what's gotten into him tonight,. She was here. I could feel it. Annoyed, I gave myself a shake and continued over to the party. What had I expected? Lia was Gina’s oldest friend; of course she would be here. “Iris! You made it!” Gina came over to me, all smiles and hugs. “I was afraid you’d get held up at work.” I smiled back. “Almost. They tried but I snuck out the back.” “Well, sit down.” Gina motioned me to a chair and signaled to a waitress. I opted for a Long Island Iced Tea. That was stronger than anything I’d had in. As you walk into the room, she won't stop grinning. It's unnerving, like she knows something you don't. "What are you doing here?" Mom and Dad decided to leave me here with you while they went on vacation." You frown when she says this, that doesn't seem like something they'd do. "Oh, hey, get me something to drink too," she says."Sure," you say, mumbling as you open the door and reach to the bottom shelf for a can of juice. As you stand up and close the door, you feel a momentary disconnect.