Roger had taken her to London in his flash Porsche on the pretext of a very important client meeting. It materialised into nothing more than several brandies with an old fiend (insisting she drink too) followed by an expensive dinner and more alcohol.The late night drive home was where he made his move, pulling into a lay bye he turned and grabbed her, sliding a hand up her stockinged thigh. She was stunned, a bit scared and unsure what to do: Roger was her boss and she had a small baby and husband in college to support, she needed this job and the money badly. She also needed to get home to them quickly, it was very late.She met his kisses grudgingly, adrenalin and alcohol flushing her face and chest. She kept pushing his hand away from her panties, but he was persistent, hiking her dress around her buttocks. With a lightning quick move, changing his position, he buried his head between her thighs: licking, biting and pushing his tongue beneath the edge of her panties, tracing her. Then he'd repeat the whole process.The ice inside the bottle crashed as he did this, making the water slosh about. Once he got a rhythm up the force of the water seemed to make the bottle go that bit further and further. Now the bottle was in all the way up to the writing, and her pussy seemed to close down onto the waist of the bottle.With each thrust in she arched her back, allowing a straight line for the bottle to take, but it also pulled on her clit hood, which also probably gave her pleasure. There was no talk now, just grunts and mumbles. And I was still by his side watching. My dick stood out, proud and wanting attention, but the sight was also so inviting, so much so I didn't want to move.Then a had came flapping my way. She sort my throbbing cock. I turned slightly in her direction, helping her find it. He looked at me, then her, then indicated that I should move towards her head. I shuffled around and she reached out and pulled me towards her face, "Move closer".
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