I'll be dammed if the beer didn’t start to foam out over the top of the bottle. She just laughed and bent her head down and with her tongue flicked the foam from the opening of the bottle. She did this several more times before she lifted the bottle to her lips and stuck her tongue tip in its opening and then put her lips around it and swallowed most of the long neck in her mouth. God I about came right then and there just from watching her. I was so thankful for the table covering me so no one could see the tent I was pitching right there. She worked the bottle in and out of her fantastic mouth for what seemed like an eternity before parted her lips and the beer dibbled out the corners of her mouth and down her chin where if then dribbled onto her glorious tits. She finishes her beer, seductively licked her lips and the bottle top and then got out of the booth she was sitting in. She tried to straighten out her dress but it was a little difficult since it had become so clingy to. I might give him a suck. Or if I’m feeling really horny, we might have another one of those long, slow fucks. After all, we have all night. For now I want to hear your story. And feel your hands on my body. They don’t have to stay on my boobs if you don’t want. Now that you’ve conceded defeat anything goes. Oh, but leave my pussy to the expert for the time being.” “The expert?” I queried, intrigued. “Number one inter-state, all-college, female masturbation champion of 1979,” Vanessa teased me. “Now there’s a spectator sport I could have taken an interest in,” I commented. “What do you mean ‘spectator’?” she asked. “Your a pretty mean hand yourself. I’ve seen you in action. But no more stalling. I want a story. And I want it now.” “All right,” I began. “First, your clothes. You are wearing loose-fitting denim overalls and a baseball cap.” “Wow, the number of fantasies I have that begin that way...” said Vanessa, sarcastically. “Now, now,” I scolded her, “who’s telling the story and.
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