“Sophie is indeed the virgin-prostitute Thomas. We’ve won!” TC said nothing. Everything seemed as if he had lost. But suddenly, his eyes sparkle... and he grinned with renewed maliciousness. “Why don’t you tell me, Sophie,” he addressed her, “you said you were willing to have sex with me, didn’t you?” “Well, I—” Sophie lost her words. “Aha!” TC shouted. “So you’re not really willing to give your body to me! Therefore, you’re not a real prostitute, so I win the bet!” “No!” Sophie snapped back. I guess that they were expecting to see a pair of knickers, or at best a hairy pussy. One pair of eyes lit up when they saw my jewellery. “What the hell,” I thought, my priority was my ankle and whatever they were doing was helping. I didn’t care about the little modesty that I still have. One of the men eventually told me that he didn’t think that anything was broken and asked me if he could spray something on my ankle. I haven’t a clue what it was but it was amazing, one minute my ankle was. You grasp my head and moan deliciously. I reach up letting the dress fall over my head and grasp the thong on either side of your hips and slowly pull it down. As your pussy is exposed, my hot breath caresses it and my lips touch yours. Pulling your thong down your legs, I take every opportunity to run my hands over the naked flesh until I get down to your feet. You step out of your thong and my tongue reaches out to taste you. Suddenly the elevator stops! I try to get out from under your. I decided to play it cool, not argue, Shella would soon tell me she was joking. Mid-afternoon Saturday Shella began to get ready. She normally dressed quite conservatively when we went out. She kept her “play clothes” for indoors. I had already gotten ready and was sitting in the lounge. She walked into the room and my jaw dropped. She had on her little black dress. It was strapless and low cut. She wasn’t able to wear a bra with it. It was very short, barely covered her delightful little bum..
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