‘Mario, can you tell me who that man is that just went out on the balcony? I find his face so familiar.’ ‘That’s Colin Marsh, Mrs Letterman, t...he famous author. If you’ve read any of them you have probably seen his picture on his books and he’s been on television quite a few times. Mr Marsh spends a lot of his time with us.’ Mario turned and gestured at the young lady who had been left at the table. ‘The young lady with him is his secretary, Katherine. Very pretty, isn’t she.’ ‘Yes, she reminds. ..what are you doing that for, Walter? Unggh!Unnggh!" Walter was too busy licking to reply. He obviously loved the taste of hismother's pussy, loved the way it felt to move his tongue busily up and down her pink, juice-glistening cunt. Patty instantly felt afraid of how she might act now. She'd been horny enough before Walter went down on her. She didn't know how outlandishly she might behave if he made her already aching cunt even wetter and itchier with his tongue. "No, Walter!. He also had Voss, which was more recent, purchased in June in Southport.Three weeks alone with a horse and one of the station’s dogs was interesting. Richard slept and ate, rode and herded, read and thought. He washed, but didn’t shave. He watched the birds and the animals. He spotted a goanna in a tree, inching towards a bird’s nest. He thought about Voss (Leichhardt), trying to cross the vastness of Australia. He’d never crossed Queensland – either east-west or north-south. Richard thought of. Yes, sort of. I feel like a bitch always on heat!" giggled Betty. Both girls squirmed salaciously then reluctantly decided to rise. There seemed to be little they could do to relieve their urges unless they left their fingers always in their cunts. The sphincters seemed to be permanent reminders of their condition. "I feel as though I always want something inside me. I need to feel 'plugged', something to occupy my sphincter muscles," worried Vicky. "Mmm," sighed Betty agreeably. "I.