One hand slipped beneath the waistband of her sweat pants and into the moist confines of her pussy. "Mmmmmmm..." she vocalized, thighs tight against h...r hand to add more pressure. Putting a raw story out there for the world to see was not entirely unlike being naked in public. So what did that imply about the act of being edited? Possibility being brought to fulfillment? She probed with her fingers, bringing her own pussibility ... er... possibility to fulfillment, and enjoyed a quiet but. The crown was bulbous, with the hefty proportioned helmet scoping down at the back, the flange extended outward around its circumference, in Belinda mind it was gigantic, as she dabbed it dry, her fingers could but reach around it completely. She sensed the dampness forming in the gusset of her knickers, perhaps Mary had only given the proud weapon a blow job, to take it further may have worried her, Belinda knew it was a chance she had to take, if she couldn’t handle it who’d know, it wasn’t. More

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