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A raised T-shaped catwalk to some generic Eastern music. "Strippers, Rikk?" "Exotic dancers. And don't puff up your throat at me, they can feed and house their families for a week on the tips they make in one night." He took her through another, closed door, leading into what was obviously his private office, all climate-controlled opulence, a mixture of expensive Old World and Vorhavok splendour, brocaded silk curtains and carbon aramid tiles, wooden furniture and firedrip ...
Lower, over her stomach and along her thighs. Separating them gently and hitching them over his. She moved willingly, laying her legs over his hard thighs that were so much larger than her own. As soon as her legs were locked above his, he spread her further, making her feel as if the warm water was invading her cunt. She moaned by the thought of the water or perhaps something bigger invading her aching cunt. His hands moved downwards again, stroking over her stomach and angling ...
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