She whimpered when the drafty cold air hit her chest. Why had she taken off her shirt before finding her bra? And where the hell was that cursed piece...of clothing? She crossed her arms against her chest and felt her teeth chatter. She looked around the room through her mass of matted reddish-blond hair, but it was no use—she had no idea where it was. She looked at the clock: 5:13. She was running late. Ben would be back soon, and her pounding head could only take so much yelling and banging. I watched as he undid his button and lowered his trousers slightly. Then Joan’s hand came up, slowly wanking him as she sucked him off. He then made a mistake. He pushed his hips forward, pushing his cock too far into her mouth and throat. She doesn’t like too much in her mouth and gagged, nearly throwing up. That was the end of his blow job. After that she seemed to come to here senses a bit and told Rob, "I can’t believe I let you do that! We’ve got to go now, please?” As she struggled to. More

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