‘Yes, Sir.’ Said Anya, and leaned forwards to kiss Rachel’s stocking clad feet, kissing her feet over and over—an act of worship which left Ra...chel bewildered. I pointed at the sofa where Rachel had been sitting, ‘Sit down,’ I said. Rachel moved without hesitation and sat on the sofa. Anya crawled over to where Rachel was sitting and continued her kissing. ‘Anya, help Rachel remove her stockings.’ ‘Yes, sir.’ Anya gently reached up to Rachel’s stocking tops and pulled them down over her legs,. The bed was ornate and wood. It was supposed to sleep four men. Yes, I said men. There was nothing gay about it. It was just a simple cost saving device.In the 1800s, commercial travelers were expected to sleep fully clothed with strangers. It was how the rumors about Lincoln got started. The mattress was just a feather stuffed cushion on a wooden plank, no inner spring, about the size of a modern queen bed.The first order of business was to get out of our wet clothes. Wet was something we were. He slowly worked his finger into my hole. Without lubrication it was a bit rough. Coach H slid entirely under the bed covers and pulled my shorts down. I felt his touch start to explore my hole. After a while his tongue went away and his finger came back. It slid into my hole with ease. After fingering me I felt Coach H slide his body up and over mine until his cock rested on my ass. It was a hard cock. Coach H thrust his pelvis against me several times before reach under the covers. On my knees, I am fucking her deeper and faster, faster and harder, harder and deeper. With every thrust, my balls are slapping her ass hole like a sledge hammer and she starts to cum again. I suddenly realize that my orgasm is blocked because my brain is thinking of being in my friend’s home and fucking his sister, I am fucking Kevin’s sister in a room next to her parent’s room, I am fucking Emily with a risk of being caught any second. No wonder I feel my orgasm building and then it fizzles.