I don’t wear underwear. After the pants and sneakers my t-shirt also flies away. Mel is moaning impatiently. I kneel behind her but I had no chance ...of kissing her on the back. Mel turns around and now her throbbing cock is pulsating in front of my face. ‘Suck!’ ‘Sure…’ And I feel a light kick directly in my hanging balls. I groan. There is no pain but I still feel it in my stomach. ‘How many times I have to tell you how to properly address me?’ ‘My apologies, Mistress Mel!’ ‘Better. Now. One Friday evening accidently our talks turned to sex. We discussed regarding fucking and sucking other thing. Normally we all are wet. Laxmi told, shell we go for pissing? So we kept our books and went there laxmi first gone inside and called me. So I went and we closed the door. I said shell we piss together in a signal basin. She seen me and agree and opened the door. We called Vanitha and she asked what. We did not tell anything but called inside. She come inside and there was heavy raining. Small footsteps came towards them, warily, as if someone was trying not to make any noise. Around behind the first of the rows of switch boards, a slim figure emerged,, carrying a Tokarev pistol across her chest. She was shaking in fear, looked drawn and exhausted, with lank, blond hair cascading raggedly about her shoulders. She wore a grey smock, drawn tightly around her waist after the fashion of the times. Beneath, her blue skirt hung modestly down to her ankles. She looked into the faces. Every now and then she turned to me and lifting her dress saying, "you like this don't you, naughty boy." Or she would bend down pretending to touch her laces. She was right, I loved it but my shorts struggled to hide my suppressed veiny monster. We called at my mum's, had a cuppa and chatted for a while. My wife sat in the opposite chair to me. Every time my mum turned to me, my wife opened her legs, driving me wild and making me stutter, as I lost concentration. We finished chatting, said our.