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" If I bring cookies," Rachael suggested."No, anytime. But I wouldn't object to cookies if you have them."Rachael and Robert walked up the long laneway to the house, after Roberthad picked up the mail. It was about a quarter mile lane, but Rachaelenjoyed being out in the country air in the spring. Robert noted that itwas not so enjoyable in the winter with a blizzard blowing in your face,making the walk take three times as long and much more annoying.Finally they got into Donna's kitchen, and Robert's mother gave a littleshriek when she saw Rachael. "Oh, so cute," she squealed. "Robert saidyou changed your hair, but I didn't think it would look so nice. Itlooks so glamorous." Thanks. I made cookies. For before dinner," Rachael said. "I got a textfrom Mom that she wanted to bring rolls. Is that okay?" I got a text from her, and that saves us from having to make biscuits.There will be 18 of us tonight, so we will be in the big dining room." Wow, that's a crowd," Rachael said."We have. She bounced awkwardly, her diminutive breasts moving just a little as she joined me on the other side of Sandra, our tongues working at different openings on our African goddess. I was worshipping her ass, wanting to show her my submission. I had switched on subtly, the lowest part of my most desperate cravings clawing its way to the front of my mind. I could force it down, make myself spend months studying like I had, only for my own disturbing needs to spill out in an ill-advised evening of risky sex. It’s why I depended on a Daddy or Mistress.Because right then, as the two of us lapped at Sandra’s holes, I would have done anything. My pussy ached with anticipation, and I realized to my embarrassing consternation that I had been rubbing myself against her calf. I had been so absorbed, so keyed up after the mandatory week of denial, that I hadn’t noticed my pitiful humping. But I didn’t stop, unable to care about the consequences. It had been months since I’d lapped desperately at.
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