Tony Daly was the stud, not Matt. God, what she’d give to be fucked again by the black photographer… With her blouse pulled up to her neck and her...skirt rucked around her waist, she felt incredibly slutty. Matt was still half dressed, too. She’d torn open the buttons of his shirt and had dragged his trousers and boxers down to his knees. Sitting on him like this made her feel so powerful—so deliciously wanton. There hadn’t been much conversation between them in the hour since he’d arrived but. I got even hornier, and stripped-off everything except my heels. I really like looking at myself when I get like this, and I like how I look in nothing but heels. Then I laid myself down and soon got into my rhythm when I heard the front door open and voices downstairs, and the conversation continued as they made their way up the stairs. To say I was freaked-out would be a big understatement. For a split moment I was so terrified, that I couldn't think or move. Then I did the only thing I. More

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