She brought her other hand to her lips as I gently caressed her knuckles with my lips, and a small gasp escaped her lips as I applied a little bit of ...tongue. Knuckle-kissing is an art, and I like to think of myself as a master. I effectively shut her up until we reached the table. This I was glad for because I was confused myself. She certainly didn’t look like a reporter – she looked like she was out for a good time. I’m certain that, at this point, I come across as a callus, deranged and. I reached Sam’s cock as it hovered and bounced above her tummy, seeking attention. I sat up and took Sam’s right hand in mine, guiding it to her hard shaft. Samantha read my thoughts and wrapped her delicate fingers around her rampant cock, slowly stroking herself as I dribbled spit to lubricate her hand. Sam began masturbating as I continued gently massaging her balls. I watched, fascinated, noting how her hand glided up and down, twisting, squeezing then easing her grip, over and over.My cunt. . somewhere abroad… She wasn’t sure the police would really take that conversation that seriously and even if they did, could they really act on it, it would really depend on what was being used as the cause of blackmail.If this was something that really was going to work, the blackmailer would need to know what meant the most to the victim, what would be the worst thing in the world to come out, that would need to be the leverage. Samantha considered this, she realised that it was her job that. "I'm sorry," I finally said. "I can promise you that we won't use your name in the newspaper. I can promise you that we won't quote you in a way that reveals your identity. But I can also promise you that if you won't tell me your name, whatever else you tell me won't make it anywhere near the paper."She gave me an appraising look and nodded again."All right, but you have to swear that this is between us." I will treat it in the utmost confidence. My editor may ask your name, and if she won't.