My nipples were hardening and Molly’s fingers sliding over the cups, trying to tug the nipples through the bra cup was only making it worse. The three-pronged assault, her lips on my neck, one hand on my tit, and the other spreading my pussy juices over my clit was making my breathing ragged and I knew she could sense victory.“You know I can’t do it, Sister Bernadette,” she mocked in my ear. “I told Seamus I wouldn't ever sleep with another man.” Her fingers stroked my folds as she dragged a finger along my slit from perineum to clit. “Luckily, he doesn’t know I like women too.”I could feel myself leaking on her fingers. Her other hand had scooped my breast out of the bra cup and she rolled the nipple between finger and thumb as if she was counting a rosary bead.“You, on the other hand, don’t have any commitments.” She paused for a beat. “And neither does Mr O’Donnell.”She pushed two fingers into my pussy. I swear I could hear them squelch as she stretched my wet velvet. This is what it feels like to be alive. To be impulsive. Reckless. Indecent. Hormones effervesce through my bloodstream, swelling my heart, making it race as we selfishly take what we need from one another without regard for the unfamiliar surroundings. Hot and hard, I start bouncing, using the wall as leverage to grind myself to meet his upstroke, our pubic bones colliding and crushing my exposed clit between us. God, I love it. The clicking wetness is audible over the muffled opening bars of Bust A Move a floor below us, our own rhythm syncopated with that of Young MC in his prime. Nothing can beat this. No music, no food can top the binding togetherness laced with the thrill of potential discovery. The electric storm that whips between the two of us shoots lightning along my pussy walls and up to connect the swollen nubs at the apex of my breasts, straining beneath the thin turquoise fabric of my blouse. Responding to their call, I release his head and cup each mound, first.
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