" Sarah, hang on, I'm coming to get you!" Don't hate me, Tom, please don't hate me."He could hear his wife crying at the end of the line. "I love you,...Sarah." Help me, Tom." The call died after the last plea. Tom held the phone next to his ear for an age.***Sarah Jackson booked herself a flight to Atlantic City. It had been too much of a coincidence. Damon J had taken the new Briony Spencer to Atlantic City. Sarah had warned him that she would try to get away, to get home, if not properly. The pissing in the pool was just a tip of the iceberg for her. She spoke of people, places and things that she dreamed of doing. It seems her pron watching and really given her an open mind and a very large bucket list. Two of her fantasies were taken care of tonight which were to fuck outside and to be pissed on. As we drank the remnants of the bottle I asked if she would like more and she excitedly said yes. Just looking at her and hearing her horniness my cock was still hard to the point she. Their steps made no sound; the lighting afforded them no more than a few feet of visioin in either direction. The panels on the walls lit up one by one as they walked; once they had passed them by they switched off.They turn sound, motion, friction, pressure into trickles of energy. Conserving, withholding it. They sicken me.At points, they happened upon crossroads. Simple stylized arrows lit up on the floor panels, indicating the proper turn.They like to control, to direct. They herd us like. Sophie murmoured and pushed it back against my face. I continued kissing it and rubbed my face over it, getting so worked up I had to pull the shorts down. Sophie was wearing a tiny little thong, and I ran my hands over the bare flesh of her lovely bum. Sophie giggled and crawled the rest of the way upstairs. At the top she kicked the shorts off and skipped to her bedroom.Once we were in her room Sophie pushed me against the door and sank to her knees. She frantically pulled my trousers.
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