In her first shower, she remembered that thing rubbing against her spot, and that felt really good, Would it feel good if she rubbed it? Bored and curious, she slid her hand down her flat belly and let her fingers find her slit. Just that initial touch was enough to make her purr, telling her that she was on to something good. She traced the petals of her virgin flower with her fingertips, feeling that gentle touch reverberate through her lower body. It was like a tickle, one that didn’t make her laugh but instead made her feel warm. She did this for a couple minutes, letting herself get used to the sensation. Her breath fluttering, she pushed it further and moved her finger between the lips, stroking the pink interior. She could feel herself becoming wet, her body reacting to the stimulation. She thought back to what had been done to her in the shower and she slid her fingers into her velvet sleeve and stirred them, whining in bliss. She began moving them back and forth, her fingers sliding effortlessly through her. Her fluttering breaths became deep pants, with her muscles expanding and contracting and making her writhe and stretch. She couldn’t help it; she needed more. She inserted her index finger as well, while her left hand struggled to find something to grab onto. At first, she clutched her shoulder, then her arm, but at last settled by grasping her breast. She experimentally gave her nipple a soft pinch and gasped, feeling as if a bolt of lightning was stretching between the soft nub and her slit. Her whole body was becoming tense and hyper, like Restless Leg Syndrome. She started arching her back and then curling up, her voice beginning to slip free between her frantic pants. Waves of euphoria, indescribable to her innocent soul, submerged her body in a hot bath while billions of tiny massage therapists gave every muscle a deep rubdown. Her voice slipped free, a single moan echoing through the house, while she could feel drops of her arousal splattering against her palm. Soon, the bliss ended, and she was left gasping for air with her chest heaving. Looks like she found something to occupy her time. I got out of my car and sighed in happiness. This had been a long day and work had been especially rough. I climbed up the front steps and unlocked my door, but stopped when a noise reached my ears. It sounded like a cat crying out, as if in a fight. My heartbeat skyrocketing in fear, I wrenched open the door and my jaw hung slack. With the living room couch directly in line with the front door, I found myself staring at Momo’s peachy Indian Girls Fucking ass, raised in the air. Her tail had taken the shape of a question mark, flipping back and forth, and between her legs, her fingers were working frantically. She didn't jump up all angry or excited, but as she tried to withdraw Indian Girls Fucking her right hand to move what had to be Tracey's hand off her breast, she realized, that in her sleep, Tracey had shifted over on his side, she had then snuggled on top of him, her head on his chest, and her hand...well, her hand had apparently slid up his baggy shorts leg during the night, and was holding his now erect penis. Marge opened her dressing gown to reveal she was naked underneath apart from a harness with a large strap on dildo. She started, looked at me warily and said “Fuck me?” I gasped as a pair of hot hands grasped my thighs right above my knees. “Do it, Daddy!” His wonderful hands slid around my body. I quickly grabbed the hard drives and made my way up to their penthouse. How much do I owe you for the food I asked as I knew she said she only had twenty dollars. Mom asked in my mind, her eyes cornering slyly at me, her face a portrait of intense ecstasy. The woman named Betty was suddenly intrigued.