His legs spread as his hips pushed up into his hand.My fingers moved inside me as my eyes kept in rhythm to this man, first one finger then a second a...d finally a third; each slowly rubbing against my tightening walls. I stopped the slow pace a few times, just to control my need, stopping myself in time with him denying himself, but kept my fingers inside me, my pussy pulling at them, strongly, begging for release. Feeling the knuckles rub against every dip as I twisted and spread them.My legs. ”“Including continental breakfast?” I smiled.“I think that could be subsumed.”“May I let you know later in the afternoon or tomorrow morning?”“Not too much later, please.”“And might I have your card ... you’ve mine.”With that I went off for a dumpling lunch downstairs at Mr. Wong on Bridge Street. I then walked back on Bridge to the Sydney Museum and north on Phillip to the Justice and Police Museum. I’d seen a poster about an exhibit called “Bushrangers behind Bars” and was curious. It was. More

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