She followed suit, the two bags side by side. There was a moment's silence ... she knew what was going to happen next. She leant back against the iron railing of the stairs.The man's hands rose up and held the sides of her body. In the heat she had earlier knotted her shirt under her ribcage for coolness. She liked the pressure of his hands on her bare skin. Then his palms were movng up her front. 'Ooooh' ,was all she could gasp as she felt those strong fingers close around the shapes of her breasts. Underneath the white blouse she was wearing the softest of bras. They stood face to face in the gloom as her breasts were massaged, caressed....the man's thumbs flicking over the stiffening forms of her hidden nipples.The man gave a throaty growl of approval as he felt her nipples through the blouse; his fingers and thumbs gripped and twisted them...Valerie gasped, moaned and put her hands on his forearms. The stair rail dug into her lower back but she didn't notice the discomfort. Now. She offered no resistance as she shuffled on her knees to position herself between La Contessa’s open legs. Helen stared at the paused image of her oldest friends and former lovers holding hands as the young maid went to work on her slit. Of course they checked into a hotel instead of coming to the castle. It’d hardly do to show up on her doorstep with revenge in mind. But even if they HAD come just as friends, they wouldn’t have ‘imposed.’ Heh, imposed… If they just thought like her (‘Mmm, yeah.’), if they understood what a gift the three of them shared, she’d have sent her jet to collect them, limo and police escort at the airport, red carpets would have been rolled out, the ceremonial cannons on the castle walls would have been fired in salute. The party would have gone on (‘Ooh, good, Maria.’) for days. Champagne, caviar, cocaine, any hot piece of ass that caught their eyes, all would have flowed like… (‘Fuck, yes.’) well, like the wine that would ALSO be flowing as much as the.
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