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Okay, I confess; so was I. Faye de Castro (so read her business card)was, in my estimation, an Oscar-caliber make-up artist. Yes, Angie's facewas heavily made-up; much more than I would have felt comfortable withfor myself, even on special occasions. The similarities to Faye's image,right down to the expert application, were obvious, and striking. OnAngie, it just looked right, just as it had on Faye. That similarity had been no coincidence. I had whispered to Faye at theonset; my undivided attention had been riveted on her the moment I laideyes on her through the window. Hers was exactly the look I wanted for mysissy. She had been only too happy to oblige. I realized that was thedomme in me speaking; strip my mate of a little more of her masculinity,separate her a little further from her 'comfort zone' - make her thatmuch more dependent on me. I had not counted on the depth of theaesthetician's expertise, nor on her obvious appreciation of thesimilarities between my hubby's features. “OH yeah. Give me more. Come on baby, feed me that load too.” She begged, as she took control of jerking him, like she did with me.As I stood there watching her finish him, I couldn’t help but think I wanted to taste him too. So without really thinking, I dropped to my knees again and snuggled up against Sarah. I started rubbing and lifting her perky breasts. I noticed some of my cum on her shoulder and sucked it off, kissing her neck as well. “Mmm, you want some too?” She asked me. I looked up bashfully and replied “Yes please.” Directing my answer to Steve. As if on cue, I saw his body surge a bit and Sarah prepared to receive some more cum. I continued to hold her tits firmly, creating a shelf and then pressed my face up next to hers. I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue as she was. It took both hands for her to sufficiently masturbate Steve’s enormous cock, and her hands were a blur now. I watched intently, and saw his balls tighten. I knew it was coming so I looked up into.
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