As if she could read my mind, she slipped off the straps that held her bra in place and removing her arms from them, she twirled the garment around, u...nfastened it and threw it to the side, revealing the image of her tender mounds to my sight and the cool night air through the mirror. Her nipples stood out from her breasts and as she massaged them with her hands, she tilted her head back and I could swear that I heard her sigh out loud.She continued to fondle her own mounds, rubbing her little. My eyes were shut, hands on his shoulders trying to push him off a bit, attempting to tell him to slow down. That's when I felt B's cock against my lips. B was watching M fuck me, watching me struggle against his weight, struggle tying to adjust to M's huge cock. B's cock was rock fucking hard again as he pumped in and out of my mouth, telling me, "Open those fucking legs. . .open, wider, lift that ass up and take that cock, take that fucking cock all the way, slut". Hearing B say that sent me. I luckily managed to catch a different bus, but taking a bit of a longer route. The bus was stupidly packed, but I made my way toward the middle and just kinda stood there and hung onto what I could. I'm only 5'1, so luckily some nice guy let me grab one of the dangling straps to support myself.I wasn't wearing anything sexy. Actually, the opposite. I only had on my boyfriends sweater and leggings. He's 6'7, and the sweater practically hugs my knees if it doesn't bunch up. I guess leggings are. She rolled onto her side, giving me a glimpse of her pussy lips. My own little snatch twitched and I could feel my own juices drenching the satin of my gown even more. Esme pulled her knees back up and knelt on the table. Picking up a knife and an orange, she sliced it smoothly in half on the wooden board that she had carried the breakfast on. "This is how I like my orange juice when I am in Paris" she told me.Esme then moved back, so she was sat straight, her pointed toes towards me, her legs.