By the time he had got to her now sopping wet pussy, Fran was shaking with want. He pushed aside the black thong she wore. ‘Oh God, Ian, please fuck...me,’ she had pleaded, but he had continued his onslaught on her, rubbing the tip of his nose on her hard little clit as his tongue entered her, licking around the walls of her vagina. ‘Please love, I need something inside me. Please fuck me,’ Fran again implored. Ian’s answer was to reach for the cucumber on the bench waiting to be chopped up in. Although, judging by the way she was moving, the heat and wetness, and the noises, Anne was enjoying herself all right. Stan wormed a finger into her, twisting his hand palm-up so he could crook the finger, looking for her G-spot. Soon her body went rigid as he rapidly flicked his tongue around her clitoris. She nearly exploded, and Stan was surprised to hear a high, keening wail as her pussy convulsed around his finger as he massaged her. Stan moved back onto his heels on the floor, watching. More

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