She had found that she could reach the top sides of the cubicle and wrap her legs around my haunches so long as I supported her slightly with my hands...gripping her buttocks. She now flailed like a gymnast preparing to swing on the parallel bars for a reverse somersault. My cock had reached super charged hardness in response to this amazing internal athleticism, and as my hands parted her ass cheeks she let out a whinny as my cock, embedded deep inside her, exploded like a hose thats just been. Maybe you have whatever goes into that.’ ‘Yes, of course, Ms. Barden. I’ll be right over.’ ‘You might bring a recipe book too. I’m a little rusty at this. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever made a cake.’ Joyce stopped at three tree lots—three mostly empty Christmas tree lots—on her way home to get the ingredients and a recipe book for Ms. Barden’s Christmas cake. And when she got home with a scrawny little tree with bare branches on one side she was fuming at herself for not having bought. More

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