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She'd slipped into a white midriff tank-top, which displayed her flat stomach and cute belly button and showed her lush 36C breasts to their best advantage. The faded Levi denims she'd put on looked as though they were bought a size too small and had shrunk in group sex the wash. In contrast, Willy's short, unruly dark hair was brushed carelessly back off her forehead. Simple little gold hoops pierced the lobes indian of her ears. A designer label crème blouse accentuated her shoulders without the aid of shoulder-pads; three of its buttons were open at her neck, displaying the outline of a pair of 32B cup breasts, without flaunting any inadequacy. Her narrow waist was cinched with a wide western leather belt and Navaho belt buckle. A gray-green skirt ended just above her knee, giving people who bothered to look a glimpse of well-developed thighs, calves and delicate ankles. Both women wore comfortable, though unfashionable, running shoes. As they reached Willy's '63 racing-green E-type Jaguar, Willy unlocked the passenger door and held it open for Hanna, before moving to the driver's door and slipping behind the wheel. She moved the car into the late afternoon traffic, heading towards Hanna's house. She described the conversation she overheard. "So what? It's exactly what we're doing, Willy," Hanna responded. "But, I don't own a strap-on, and we're not lesbians," Willy remonstrated. "No we're not, but we can get a strap-on," Hanna responded. "Stop there," she pointed to a vacant parking spot in front of a well known sex shop. "Lets get one there," she demanded mischievously. Willy guided the Jag into the parking place, locking the doors after they had exited. They walked into the large sex shop, hand in hand. A Goth-like clerk complete with pale make-up, darkened eyes, drab dark-gray dress, blackened hair, spiked bracelets and collar, disengaged herself from a co-worker and the magazine they were avidly reading. "Can I help you ladies?" she asked. Hanna blushed prettily. "Um, my friend is looking for a strap-on," she said, pointing at Willy. The clerk nodded knowingly, "Any particular model or size?" she asked. This time Willy blushed. "Well no. Can you show us some?" she asked. "They're all there," the clerk answered and pointed absently to a wall, whose shelves were laden with dozens of varieties of dongs and strap-ons. Hanna giggled, "Holy shit, there's hundreds!" Willy whispered, "You choose. You're going to be on the receiving end." Hanna and Willy walked along the isle, picking up various models, reading the deions or advertising that was printed on the packaging aloud to one and other. Finally, Hanna held up an 8-inch model she had taken off the shelf, and brazenly asked the bored clerk, "What's this one like?" "Ah," said the Goth girl clerk, sagely. "Good choice. It comes complete with a harness and batteries. It has a vibrating, molded head, sculpted shaft and has some really neat accessories." The woman I am in love with may not share my feelings. "You don't deserve that kind of treatment" he gave "I'm a monster! “Ohhhhhhhhhh. Our sexual chemistry is off the charts. It could easily be called heaven. “Yes, yes, group sex yes, Clint,” I moaned. The bump at the top of my slit that gets bigger as I get turned on?” alarms, and screaming, mostly from people in blind panic. “That's more than I could hope for my little lover.” Holding the railings with both hands to keep my balance, I squatted on the balcony. Amy then asked Ronnie how she was. This is… really happening, Stephanie thought, releasing an unsteady breath. I shuddered as I pulled them up, the strange, defiant rush rippling over me. “You're just the best. “Let’s finish what we were doing prior to be interrupted” indian