Jim had been watching her fuck George, and he had gotten one hell of a show. She smiled back, a naughty little smile letting him know that she knew wh...at he had seen. He winked at her and turned from his window. ‘Let him look,’ she thought, ‘It turns me on.’ Jim was a good-looking twenty-three year old young man. He had nice golden brown hair, golden eyes and a trim body with muscular arms and chest. She would not mind a piece of that she thought. The doorbell rang bringing her out of her. You hips continue to buck, beckoning me closer. Silently begging me not to make you wait any longer. My tongue darts out, and you let out a small cry when it touches. I press it against the opening and then trail it slowly from there to your clit, extracting a long moan from you. The sweet flavor of your juices explodes onto my tongue as it slides through your slit. I move down, repeating my lick, then again and again. Over and over, with every lick ending with a flick or suck. "The waitress asked, "Where's the finger, Marty? I'll pack it in some ice."Marty, his stub now wrapped in a bloody rag, looked around and spotted the amputated index finger, taken off below the second knuckle, lying next to the pork chops on the band saw table."Over there!" he dipped his head toward it.Errol cautioned, "I wouldn't put it directly on ice, ma'am! If the tissue freezes, they won't be able to save it."She asked, "Then what should I do?" Wrap it in something clean like a paper. . um..." stammered John. embarrassed that these gorgeous women would laugh when they saw his hard-on."Hush! Lift your hips!" ordered Cindy. "Sarah, give me a hand."Together, the two women pulled down John's shorts and jock strap. John's prick sprang free and snapped back against his stomach with a loud slap. Neither woman looked at it."What did you come to see me about?" Cindy asked Sarah as she began her examination, starting with John's right foot."Well, I don't think we can talk about it.