In the middle of Chrissy's floor was a pile of clothing, the contents of a giant bag that I had dragged in and dumped out, we were going to spend the ...hole night dressing up. I had ordered a couple of cute wigs online, nothing too expensive, but Chrissy was desperate to try them out, and I repeatedly complained of being elbowed while trying to share the mirror to apply some bright red lipstick. I gave up fighting with the mirror hog and turned to the pile of clothes, plucking a couple of. Where I grew up was a small town in Western New York, and we had a giant melting pot of people living there. We had Swedish, Norwegian, Italian, Irish, English, and German descendants who had lived there for at least four or five generations. As a result, we had a good mix of people living there. Furthermore, our town was one of the stops on the underground railway for escaping and free slaves during and immediately after the Civil War. So like I said we were a pretty good melting pot of. Now, in a new job with plenty of travel required, Em found herself in a world in which for travel purposes she was her own master. Well, mistress, actually. The thought gave her a smile. Em had a girlfriend in Hong Kong who had been working there for a year or so and had related to her over too many drinks on one holiday trip the many and varied opportunities that presented themselves to travelling and resident women. One her friend told her about in colourful detail was a night when she had. “Give me more cock!” She demanded, and I acquiesced, putting my semi-hard penis in front of her face. Her expression was rapt as she stroked it to full life, hardly seeming interesting in the attention her young pussy was getting from the old guy behind her. She wanked the shaft while she licked the tip and I began to enjoy myself, trying to get more of my length into her eager mouth. She slipped off the old chap’s cock and wiggled her way out the car, taking my hand and going round the front.
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