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It didn’t feel like Monday morning but that was what Linda Woodhead’s bedside clock was telling her. Linda hated Monday mornings. It always seemed so rude to be dragged out of bed by her alarm after two days of blissful lie-ins. But this Monday morning was different, which was the cause of Linda’s confusion. She was awake and felt energised. Even though her alarm wasn’t scheduled to go off for another 23 minutes, she simply couldn’t stay in bed. She needed to get up. The room was cold. The heating hadn’t come on but that didn’t seem to matter in the way that it normally did. The cold was refreshing. Linda had never felt refreshed; at least had never felt refreshed without having downed a glass of something alcoholic first. Sleep didn’t seem to have any effect on Linda’s wellbeing. It didn’t seem to matter how long she spent in bed, she never felt truly revitalised. Linda actually bounced out of bed. Well her breasts did as she hit the floor. They seemed heavier than they usually did and they definitely looked fuller as she caught a glimpse of her profile in the mirror. Linda felt good; great even. And that was before her morning coffee. Linda often didn’t attain a noticeable level of consciousness until she had most of her morning coffee inside her. Looking in the bathroom mirror, Linda found it hard to fathom the change in her. Was this what a good night’s sleep did to a woman? There were no bags under her eyes, and even her skin looked younger. “It’s perfect timing to be having a good day,” Linda thought. You always hope to be at your best when you’re having an interview. Linda skipped to the kitchen, caught herself skipping and took a more measured approach. Setting the coffee, she grabbed the copious notes which had scattered themselves on the kitchen floor and fought to put them into some sort of order. They were the notes for her presentation. There were a lot of them since she didn’t really know what kind of job she was being interviewed for. It was something to do with promotional material and advertising by the sounds of things. Linda was desperate and ready to give anything a go. Ungluing yesterday’s coffee cup from the table, she set the fresh coffee and decided to take advantage of her new-found energy before whatever magic wore off. “Bleugh,” she spat, tasting the coffee for the first time. It was disgusting sweet poison. She couldn’t even bring herself to swallow it; instead scampered over to the sink and spat it out. Perhaps the milk was off. Linda gave the milk a wary smell test but found it perfectly acceptable. In fact, it was considerably more appealing than the coffee had been and rather than try another coffee, Linda took the milk back to the table and took a long draught straight from the bottle. The cold of the milk was strangely satisfying and she felt compelled to take another glug. “Mornin’,” Samantha chirped, with obvious approval sounding in the tone of her voice. “Mornin’,” Linda replied brightly. “I wasn’t expecting to see you up so early this morning.” Linda knew that Samantha gave bonus points for early risers. Linda hadn’t earned a bonus point in months. Samantha had the same thought and her tone turned suspicious. “You have been to bed haven’t you? Tell me you haven’t pulled another all-nighter?” “Of course I’ve been to bed. I just got up early to…” Linda couldn’t quite think what she had been intending to do. She just hadn’t wanted to waste any of the day lounging around in bed. There were things to do. That sounded odd now that she thought about it. It sounded like something Samantha would say to be ‘motivational’. “Hold the front page! ‘Lazy’ Linda got up early?” Samantha gave her friend a wink. ‘Lazy’ was a label which had stuck since their school days. Other labels included ‘late’, ‘lovely’ and ‘luscious’. “What time did you get to bed?” “Oh I don’t know, about two-ish?” That made it doubly odd to be feeling so good, not that Linda was complaining. “Have you seen the milk?” Samantha asked, after hunting through the jungle-cum-rubik’s cube that passed as a fridge. “Sorry,” Linda grinned, wiping her top lip with her bottom lip before giving a satisfied smack. “You drank the all the milk?” Samantha stopped and studied her friend as she sat at the table. “Are you feeling OK?” Samantha actually bent down to study Linda. “Fuck off,” Linda replied playfully, wafting her hands for emphasis as though Samantha was an irritating fly trying to get at her breakfast. “I drink milk.” “Not without putting it in that Columbian filth you call coffee first, you don’t.” “Hey! That stuff’s expensive.” “So is caviar. Doesn’t make it taste good. Well, I can’t stand around here nattering all day. So long as you’re feeling OK. Let me know how you get on at the audit- sorry interview. Perhaps the milk will help.” “Help with what? You haven’t even told me what it is I’m going to be doing exactly.” “Oh don’t worry, you’ll be fine. A natural.” “A natural what?” but Samantha was getting ready somewhere out of earshot. Linda turned back to her notes – where had she got up to? It was amazing but every page she read, she already knew every word. It was as though the whole set of notes had been tattooed into her memory. “Bye, then,” Samantha called from the hall. “What about breakfast? You want some toast or something?” Linda shouted. “Haven’t got time. I’ll just grab a biscuit or… hey are you OK?” “Nurrrgh.” “Hey, Woodhead, look at me,” Samantha said, with genuine concern in her voice as she crouched over the prone from of Linda Woodhead. “Are you having a fit or something?” “I’m fine,” Linda gasped, pulling herself up onto a chair. “I just erm, slipped. You’d better go. You’ll miss your bus.” “Well, yes but… as long as you’re OK?” “I told you, I’m fine; go!” Linda Woodhead was better than fine. She’d just had her best orgasm in months. *****  Orgasms were hardly a rarity in Linda’s life but she’d never had a spontaneous orgasm before. It left her feeling kind of shocked on top of the mellow warmth that always followed her orgasms. Perhaps she had had some kind of especially sexy dream. Could that explain the way Linda had been feeling since she’d woken up? Why had the orgasm fired when it did? Linda hadn’t been having any sexy thoughts. She’d been leafing through her notes for one last time. Had there been something subliminal in there; something so rude and sexy that it had made Linda orgasm on the spot? Linda went to the shower. Her breasts definitely felt fuller as she soaped them. Linda had made a mental note to shave everywhere after something she’d read in a magazine about being prepared; about being strong and confident during interviews – however there didn’t seem to be anything to shave. Everywhere was silky smooth already. Today was a good day. Super smooth; super sexy. Linda felt right. Especially between her legs. Samantha had already left, which meant Linda was alone. Her fingers moved slowly at first, cleaning. Then they were doing more than cleaning. Minutes passed. More minutes. Linda felt her clitoris throbbing underneath her fingers. It had been woken from its slumbers but seemed surprisingly reluctant to follow-up on what had happened to Linda in her kitchen. Linda braced herself against the wall with the shower spraying down her front. She rubbed harder; pulling her fingers up harder. Her pussy was burning with a strange friction; where there should have been pleasure there was only disappointment and discomfort. Linda wished she had never started; wished she had been satisfied with Samantha and her bloody biscuit. Pleasure blossomed without warning. Linda’s groan echoed bahis siteleri back to her; “Nurrrghhhhaaa,” as her fingers instantly slipped down into her pussy and rubbed. They should have helped to draw out the orgasm, heighten the peak as her hips rotated with the rhythm of her spasms. All that should have happened. But it wasn’t happening. Linda’s orgasm was empty. It still flared like a sexual firework but it was like watching that firework from a distance – the light and sound were still spectacular but they were completely disassociated from Linda’s body. Her pussy and clitoris were completely oblivious to what was happening. Linda frowned. “What kind of woman has an orgasm every time someone says ‘biscuit’? Nurrrghhhh.” *****  “Everything’s fine mum, I just thought I’d pop round.” “But you never pop round. We’ve lived here for seven years and you’ve never popped round once, has she George?” “Hmmm?” George muttered from behind his paper. George Woodhead was extremely reluctant to drop the newspaper as to do so often resulted in an hour or two of hoovering or other miscellaneous tasks. He didn’t read the paper, although he made sure to hold it the right way up. It was just a prop, something he used to protect himself from his wife. “I have popped round,” Linda said, somewhat defensively. “When?” Dorothy Woodhead persisted. “Now. This is once.” Linda saw her mother’s face crack for a moment as she realised that her daughter had outmanoeuvred her in this instance. “You’ve got that job interview today, haven’t you?” Linda fought down the irritation at her mother’s questions to which she already knew the answer. “George, she’s got that interview today, isn’t that right?” “Yes, Mum.” “What time is it?” “9:32,” George said promptly from behind his paper, just to prove that he was following the conversation. Time keeping was an area with which George felt comfortable making a contribution. “The interview, silly.” Dorothy rolled her eyes. “It’s at 12:30.” “Oh good. Plenty of time for a cup of tea and a biscuit.” “Nurrrghhhh,” Linda groaned, sliding down onto the sofa. When she looked up, her father was peering at her from behind the business section of the Daily Telegraph. “You OK, love?” he enquired. “You do look a little flushed, love,” Linda’s mum added. “I’ll be much better after I’ve had a cup of tea and a…” “Bisc…” “Have you got any custard creams?” Linda asked sharply. Dorothy frowned at being so rudely interrupted. “I think so.” “There’s a packet at the back, on the third shelf behind the vegetable basket,” George recited, keeping the paper between himself and the female members of his family. He liked to keep everything in its place, as he had done during his time in the army kitchens. Dorothy made a face as she did some mental calculation and then leant forward and patted her daughter on the knee. “Your period’s due, isn’t it?” Linda scowled. “Muuum!” Linda used the universal dual-tone reply of exasperated children everywhere, despite the fact she was a 28 year old woman of independent means. “Well, it is.” “I am not on my period.” George leapt across the room. “I’ll make the tea.” “Don’t forget the biscuits,” Dorothy called out. “Nurrrghhhh.” “Are you feeling alright love, you’ve gone a very funny colour. George, hasn’t she gone a funny colour?” George marched back into the room. “The custard creams are missing,” he said, accusingly. “Missing?” “AWOL. Unaccounted for.” “Ah yes, I took those to the crochet class at the library.” “Why didn’t you sign them out?” “Sign them out? Oh don’t be so silly, George, just bring in the HobNobs instead.” George was about to start moaning about the fact that no inventory system had a hope of working unless everyone abided by the rules when he had a thought. “The chocolate ones?” he asked, hopefully. The chocolate HobNobs were reserved for special occasions. As far as George was concerned, just making his way through each day without killing Dorothy made a day special. He didn’t wait to hear the answer. “There you go love,” George said, placing the cup on the table closest to Linda. “And I’ve put a couple of…” “Chocolate HobNobs,” Linda interrupted. “On the saucer.” “Thanks, Dad.” Linda looked up gratefully. She took a sip and screwed up her face. It tasted like someone had spilled the contents of a sugar refinery into the cup and the milk was definitely off. Linda waited. Her parents never had spoiled milk. She watched as they downed their drinks without complaint. It was her; she’d changed. Her tastes had changed overnight. “So what’s this job you’re going for?” Linda found herself making something up, since she had no idea what the post actually entailed and then got a bit carried away and made out that she was the ideal candidate. The corner of the business section dropped. “Sounds like someone’s properly prepared.” Linda thought back to the late nights. They had been booze-fuelled, not research orientated. It had been four weeks since she’d even looked at the advert. And even then, Samantha had merely made her sign something. It seemed odd now that she thought about the smears, smudges and coffee stains on her ‘application’ paper. What was the worst that could happen? “Are you going to have those biscuits, love?” George asked, hopefully. “Nurrrghhhhaa.” “Oh good.” George popped over and helped himself to the HobNobs and disappeared back behind the main section of the Daily Telegraph. “Mum… have you ever had a response?” “A response? What kind of response?” “Sexual.” There was a choking sound from the paper. Or somewhere immediately behind it. “Linda! You know how it upsets your father to talk about… delicate matters.” “Well, I’ve got a problem…” “You’re pregnant!” Dorothy shrieked with excitement. “That’s why you’re not on your period!” There was a great wheezing noise from the corner of the room and the newspaper started to shake between tightly gripping fingers. “I am not pregnant,” Linda exclaimed. “Or on my period.” “You’ve caught something,” Dorothy said, accusingly. “One of those SDTs.” “I have not got an STD!” Something heavy hit the paper from behind; something head shaped pressed out into the room unnoticed. “Have you ever had an… orgasm…?” Linda began. “Of course I have dear, your father is extremely… Oh goodness, look what you’ve done to him! George!” “Dad!” George’s paper had dropped to the floor with George’s face attached to it. The face was almost unrecognisable to that which had hidden itself from view just seconds before. Its skin was purple; the eyes bulging horribly and there was a desperate wheezing noise coming from his mouth. “I told you he couldn’t stand women’s talk. You’ve killed him. That’s what you’ve done. You’ve killed your own father.” “He’s not dead Mum, he’s choking!” It was impossible to perform the Heimlich manoeuvre on her father where he was and equally impossible to move him without the assistance of her hysterical mother. Linda did the only thing she could think of. She kneed her father in the stomach. “You really are killing him!” Dorothy cried, running round in a little circle. “What will the neighbours say?” Linda pushed her knee in under George’s ribs again and a semi-circle of chocolate HobNob rotated across the room like a sycamore leaf and came to a spinning halt on the sofa. “That’s why I don’t let you have the HobNobs, you greedy old goat,” Dorothy scolded, as George took a desperate breath. “You’re supposed to chew them first.” “Mum! He could have died.” Colour was returning to her father’s face. “What’s happening?” he asked, starting to look more like his usual composed self. canlı bahis siteleri “You nearly died, you great wally.” “Mum! Be nice.” “She is being nice.” George fell back into his chair and ran his finger along the inside of his collar. “I don’t think your mother will let me near the biscuit tin in future,” he said with a chuckle. Linda collapsed to the floor and clutched her belly. “Nurrrghhhhaa.” “I hope you’re not expecting me to do that thing with the knee,” Dorothy said. “If I got down there, I’d never be able to get back up again.” *****  Linda had to get away. By the time she had persuaded her mother to get a taxi to take her father to casualty, much of her ‘bounce’ had been used up. Worried as she was about her father, it was what had happened to her which she couldn’t stop thinking about. It simply wasn’t right that both of her parents had made her orgasm. Would it look a bit keen to arrive for the interview 90 minutes early? What would happen if they offered her a biscuit? Linda knew the answer to that. She’d already had more orgasms in a single morning than she had managed in the previous three weeks. And those had been productive weeks – the little Lelo had proved to be the most reliable partner she’d ever known. “I might not be needing it quite so much in future,” Linda thought. Linda found herself wondering what it would feel like to use the toy and then utter the ‘B’ word. “All I need to do is think about… HobNobs and I can have all the orgasms I can handle. I wonder if I should see a doctor about it?” Linda had a stab of doubt. What if the doctor was able to stop it? Would she actually want that? No-one was watching, so Linda sat down on someone’s wall and braced herself. “Biscuit,” she thought. Nothing. “Biscuit! Biscuit, biscuit.” Nothing happened. Not even a twitch. “Biscuits?” Nope. Linda wrapped her fingers under the lip of the wall. “Biscuit,” she whispered. “Nurrrghhhhaa! Oh Jesus!” Linda waited for her head to stop spinning and her thoughts to refocus. Each orgasm was the same. A duplicate, a copy. There was no variation; they didn’t get stronger or weaker and unlike ‘ordinary’ orgasms, they didn’t feel any different for having already had one or six. Six! Linda had never had six orgasms in a day before. And she could choose to have more. That might be fun. “Biscuit,” she whispered. “Nurrrgh – biscuit – Nurrrghhhhaa! Biscuit Nurrrghhhhaaaa!” Linda realised that her hand was instinctively clutching at her crotch and her legs were sticking out straight in front of her like a marionette. Fortunately, there was no-one close enough to notice the multi-orgasmic girl slumped against a gatepost. Linda let her feet rotate down to the ground and started smiling. This was brilliant! *****  Linda was so early and so full of energy that she decided to walk to the interview. It was as she walked that she noticed that there was something wrong with her breasts. They were hurting and nothing she did with her bra did anything to alleviate the discomfort. By the time she arrived forty minutes later, Linda was in pain. Each and every breath caused daggers to penetrate her bouncing bosom. “How many I help you?” asked a dazzling smile from behind the reception desk. “I’m Linda Woodhead; I’m here for an interview?” she said to the glamorous girl on reception. “I’m a bit early.” The headlight smile didn’t waver for a moment as ‘my name is Lucy’ turned the page. “Oh yes, here you are.” Linda smiled as Lucy gave her entry a big friendly heart, rather than the normal tick. “Is there a loo that I can use to freshen up?” “Of course. Through the doors, first on the left.” Linda hobbled as directed. These shoes weren’t designed for walking. They were designed to look good. “Great shoes,” Lucy observed from behind the counter. Linda tried to smile but wasn’t sure how the expression looked. Linda could barely breathe by the time she’d chosen a cubicle in the ladies. Her blouse seemed to be constricting every breath. She undid the buttons and then gasped. Her breasts had escaped. Forget the kind of boost a girl got by slipping a chicken fillet into the cups; it looked as though Linda was smuggling a whole chicken in each cup. The relief when Linda unclipped the bra was tremendous but what had been revealed didn’t look right. Linda listened carefully and once she was sure she was alone, she opened the door. The sinks were offset from the cubicles, so she had to tiptoe over to the basins, where she gasped. Her breasts looked like a pair of barrage balloons. They weren’t swollen or tender, although there was a nasty welt where her bra had cut into the flesh. But she had never seen these breasts before in her life; she’d seen similar ones on covers of magazines but never in real life. They were breath-taking. They were hers. They were huge! “Oh, sorry!” Linda clutched at herself as she heard the voice behind her. Her hands weren’t really big enough and there was significant flesh escaping as she looked in the mirror to see Lucy approaching. “No, no it’s… I was just…” There was no point trying to explain. She had been admiring her new breasts in the mirror in the toilets of a company she was about to interview for. Simple as that. “I just came to check that you were… you’d not got lost?” Lucy said. There was an uncomfortable pause as the two women looked at each other. Lucy, being fully dressed and on home turf, held a distinct advantage. Linda had a brain wave. “It’s my bra,” Linda said, lifting an arm. It’s a new one and it’s…” she let her voice fade as she revealed the abused flesh. “Oh my god, you poor thing!” Lucy’s perfect brow probably would have furrowed if the muscles in it hadn’t been suffering from acute Botox poisoning. Linda jumped as Lucy’s fingernail touched her and dragged along the red and purple welts. She had something in mind and felt rather guilty as she let Lucy explore. “These are great tits; who did them?” “Did them?” “Your surgeon?” “No surgeon; they’re natural.” “No way!” “Way!” Linda said, feeling extremely uncomfortable at using street language. What would her father say? Linda’s stomach tightened. She hoped he was OK. “Can I…?” Lucy asked but she was already cupping her hand and moving it with obvious intent. Linda watched in horror as Lucy first cupped and then squeezed her breast. “Wow. I’ve never felt a real one before. It’s… wow. So, you know?” “I know!” Although Linda had no idea what they were talking about. “The thing is, I can’t go into the interview without a bra.” “Uh-huh,” Lucy said, nodding vigorously. “So I was wondering if I could…” “Borrow mine?” Linda could tell that the perfectly crafted eyebrows would have shot up to emphasize the question had they been capable of any movement at all. As it was, Lucy’s face remained entirely neutral. Impossible to read. “Just while I go for the interview,” Linda clarified. “I’ll give it you back on the way out.” “Oh sure. Yeah, no problem.” The fake posh accent had dropped now that Linda and Lucy were bosom buddies, so to speak. “You can have a feel of my tits and see what you think,” Lucy enthused. Linda was careful to keep her thoughts to herself as Lucy stripped and exposed two of the most amazing breasts she’d ever seen. “Snap,” Lucy said, and Linda was amazed to realise that all four breasts lined up in the mirror did look alike. “What size are you?” Linda asked, trying to show a bit of interest in what were probably Lucy’s most prized assets. “I’m a DD.” Linda noticed the way Lucy was turning from side to side, admiring her breasts in the mirror. “Come-on, don’t be shy. I know you want to have a squeeze. ” The very canlı bahis last thing Linda wanted to do was squeeze Lucy’s titties but she really wanted to borrow Lucy’s bra for the interview. “Mmmm,” she faked, as she stood behind Lucy and placed her hands over the woman’s tits. “Go on, have a proper squeeze!” Linda gave in. She contracted both hands and felt the flesh adjust. So that’s what it felt like for a man. “You showing off your bazookas again, Luce?” The voice was that of another woman who had just entered the toilets. “She paid a lot for those, you know. Likes to get her money’s worth by showing them off to anyone who’ll take a look. Or a feel.” Linda withdrew her hands immediately and used them to cover her own breasts. “Did you see Mr Ashworth as well? He’s really good. Yours almost look real.” “Mine are real!” “No way!” “Way!” Lucy confirmed. “I didn’t believe it either but Linda let me have a squeeze and they totally are.” “Can I have a go?” Linda couldn’t risk offending her new best bra-lending friend. “Of course,” she replied, with fake enthusiasm. Lucy took the opportunity for a second grope. “They’re so…” “Real?” Linda asked, feeling a certain sympathy with cows all of a sudden. “Ow!” “You felt that?” Of course I bloody felt that, you nearly pulled my nipple off. “Wow. I’ve hardly got any sensation in my nipples.” Linda watched in horror as Lucy’s nameless, shameless friend started unbuttoning her blouse. Her breasts weren’t nearly quite so enormous as Lucy’s but they were big and brash on such a small framed girl, like an American RV pulling up at a muddy campsite in Yorkshire. Linda was now surrounded by enormous breasts; her own, Lucy’s and anonymous’ plus the reflection of all six breasts in the mirror. There were hands roaming over all the breasts, poking and squeezing all the way. It was many a freshman’s fantasy but it was enough to make a straight girl puke. Only that wasn’t how Linda was feeling. Not at all. “I think I should be getting dressed,” Linda said, desperately. “I need to prepare for my interview.” “Don’t go yet,” Lucy cooed, wrapping her arms around Linda’s waist. Linda’s skirt fell from her hips. “Oh god, you mucky cow,” Lucy exclaimed. “I don’t mind if I do!” Lucy blew herself an air kiss to the mirror before dropping to her knees. With Lucy’s arms wrapped around her legs, Linda could no longer escape, even if she’d wanted to. Part of her mind was screaming at her to get away; another part was just screaming. She was stuck, unable to move. “Oh my fucking god,” Linda screamed in shock. Lucy’s mouth had pressed against her pussy and it felt wonderful. “This is too weird.” Linda thought, but even as she thought those words, her legs were opening and her fingers were pressing into Lucy’s thick locks. She didn’t understand what was happening to her but felt compelled to continue. Is this what happened to women? Was this some latent lesbianism rising to the surface? The real Linda? “Please…” Linda heard herself beg. What she really wanted was an explanation but she knew that Lucy was unlikely to provide one of those. Not with her mouth so busy… “Turn over,” Lucy said, in a new commanding voice. Linda didn’t know what that meant until she saw that the girl was holding a butt-plug and a tube of lubricant. It shocked but thrilled Linda to obey. Lucy pulled Linda’s knickers down in a flash. Linda’s bared bottom was now at the mercy of the receptionist. A cold slug of lubricant touched Linda’s arsehole and within seconds Lucy had her finger stuck up Linda’s arse. Linda’s mind span; it felt like a fantasy, although Linda couldn’t remember having ever fantasised about anal fingering. A part of her was still shocked to be doing such intimate things with two women only seconds after meeting them. But another part was utterly thrilled. How was this possible? “That’s a great little bum you’ve got there,” anonymous added, as she added her finger into the mix. A noise which Linda had never heard before escaped from her throat as the second finger wormed its way in past the first and penetrated much more deeply. Linda couldn’t help but groan with pleasure as the two girls finger-fucked her arse. “Oooh, someone likes that,” Lucy observed dirtily. “Well, if you like that, you’re going to love this,” she said, and pressed the tip of the butt-plug against Linda’s well-lubed opening. Linda was confident of one thing: something that big was never going to fit up her bum; she’d struggle to get it in her pussy. Lucy pushed and pushed, fighting Linda’s sphincter until the widest part had passed through into the cavity beyond. The stretched sphincter muscles closed gratefully and in doing so, pulled the whole of the toy fully into Linda’s rectum. “Huh!!” Lucy laughed. “Your little ass must be bigger than I thought to swallow that thing.” “It’s… inside me?” I Linda asked. “Oh yes, it certainly is,” Lucy replied happily. “All in.” “Oh god,” Linda groaned. It wasn’t the kind of groan you normally hear during a sex act; more the kind you’d hear from the stands when the favourite horse falls at the last jump. Linda’s fingers explored: sure enough, the flat base was welded firmly between her buttocks. “I’m an anal slut,” she wailed. “Yes you are, you dirty bitch.” Linda’s stomach knotted but then seemed to get caressed from somewhere deep within. Had she triggered something? It was beyond Linda’s wildest nightmares. Powerful vibrations were caressing from deep inside her ass. “Oh fuck,” Linda groaned, clawing at the base, trying to pull the wretched thing out. She was doing well but at the point of maximum width, she met maximum resistance and Linda lost her grip so that the damn thing slithered all the way back inside. “Oh you want it like that, do you?” Lucy asked, and without waiting for an answer she began pulling the plug back and forth, alternately stretching Linda’s hole before allowing it to relax. “How the hell did I get myself into this?” Linda thought. “And how do I escape?” Linda knew exactly what she needed to do. She groaned expansively, wriggling her bottom as though dancing in the privacy of her own bedroom. For each movement of fingers or toy she let out a satisfied gasp. Linda felt like she was giving a good performance; as though she couldn’t resist the pleasure that Lucy and her friend were giving her. But how much was an act? “Oh, God!” Linda exclaimed, deciding to bring the session to a climax. “You’re going to make me come!” “Really?” Lucy whispered. Linda felt a thumb jab into her pussy and rub. And then she felt a tongue licking… down there.  “Oh fuck biscuit!” Linda cried. “Nurrrghhhh.” Linda was bent in half with her legs spread wide as the withering orgasm gripped her body and wrung the pleasure out of it. It did feel even better when she’d been stimulated. Interesting. Linda gathered herself to find Lucy smiling contentedly, her skin glowing, flushed with her own sexual satisfaction. As Linda didn’t think to look down, it took her a moment to realise why Lucy was looking so happy. She was sitting on anonymous girl’s face. “You eat really good pussy,” Linda said, which was the best compliment she could think of. Lucy nodded in a way which suggested that her body was no longer attached to the rest of her body. “But I’d better get going in case they come to interview me.” “Of course,” Lucy said, briefly goosing Linda’s pussy. Linda backed away, grabbing a boulder-holder of a bra and went back to her cubicle to get dressed. Leaving the upturned toy on the cistern, Linda managed to button her blouse over her borrowed bra. The bra was absolute bliss, although her bum was hurting so much Linda barely noticed. As Linda came out of the ladies, she found two men had entered the waiting room. There was something wrong with them; the way they caught each other’s eye as they clocked Linda made alarm bells ring.

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