’ ‘Nothing at all?’ ‘Not a thing,’ she replied. But she was lying. I’d have bet my life that she was lying. Her voice stayed steady, the inflection didn’t change a bit. She didn’t look away from me or anything like that, but I could almost smell it. Why would she do that? Why would my best friend in the world lie to me about an old man in a cowboy hat? After that the conversation was dropped, and we ate in silence as the storm raged outside. I had no intention of calling her on her little fib, and I’m pretty sure she was grateful for that. Both of us using that low grade ESP again. We left the dishes for the morning and she said that she was heading up to bed. ‘Honey are you coming?’ she asked. Her brow was furrowed to the point of being comical under other circumstances. ‘I’ll be up in a minute. I’m just going to lock up.’ ‘Hurry.’ I nodded and headed to the front door, locked it and went to turn off the kitchen light. The sink was dripping the way old sinks do if you don’t make sure. Brigitte was concentrating on talking to Melissa and Steve as she tugged on my cock. We were desperately trying not to attract unwanted attention to ourselves while we chatted next to the car. Brigitte’s smile and occasional giggling were the only things that gave her actions away. It was playful banter and suggestive flirting, nothing more than that. It was immense fun and I was really enjoying it. Every now and then, Brigitte would tell Steve, or Melissa, how nice my cock felt, and how big it was growing.Melissa, for some reason, declined my invitation to come and feel Brigitte’s breasts, and she didn’t even start to feel Steve’s cock either. Both of them just formed a cordon around us as we chatted; the car shielded us from the main road, on our other side. With my cock extremely pumped up and erect inside my trousers, Brigitte started to pull harder on it. “Much more of that and you’re gonna have sticky fingers,” I told Brigitte, matter-of-factly.That was when her demeanour.
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