Katy wouldn’t let me put my hand in her knickers. Not at first.
Someone once told me you can tell the difference between a cheap suit and an expensive one from a mile away. I was dubious, but perhaps they were right. As the suit He wore looked like a work of art. It was so sharp it must have been cut with razor blades. The material was so sumptuous it likely cost more than someone like me would make in a lifetime. He sat at the table before us and ate alone.
It’s not as comfortable as I imagined it would be in the closet. It’s hot and stuffy. The clothes hanging around me sit on my shoulders and on my head. There are too many shoes in here to sit comfortably. I should have bought some sort of seat. I have a perfect view of the bed through the crack in the door, though.
They made us sleep in different tents on the team away day, boys with boys and girls with girls, no mixed-sex sharing.
Stop talking and fuck me.
This hard floor is murder on my knees, but it’s worth it. It’s a little cold in here too without any clothes on. The men don’t seem to mind though. They all seem to be focussed on me. And their cocks.