Mr Jones ran his fingers down the crease of her cunt. There was no pretence of checking anything. He just wanted to (and could) feel her helpless cunt...Her arse was already quite red.“Right. Mr Harding. The slipper?”“Why thank you.” was the reply. “And Mr Jones, could you just check those tits stay on the table? There’s a good man.”She felt the sole of the slipper address her naked arse. A couple of soft pats.Then ‘SPLAT'Jo reared up as a wave of pain shot through her. Barely able to recover…. My question was what she thought about that possibility. It was interesting that she was more concerned about me than she was about herself. It pleased her that my thoughts too were of her. We concluded that it might be better for us to take the initiative rather than be led. And yes, tonight would be as good a time as any to put our plan into action. After lunch we carried the two double mattresses, our own and the spare from the second communal bedroom, into the lounge area, moving lounge. More

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