It took a while to come down, droplets of blood dripped from the stitch site, grey slime dribbled from her body as he withdrew her grip eased and my poor tool fell bruised from her grasp, and we all slumped into an exhausted aftermath relapse. I quickly cut the last stitch then pulled the thread away fast and simply. Her face a mask of mascara dribbles from her tears of pain, his and I suspect mine, bearing looks of triumph. We released her and together in an awed silence we sat recovering from the huge climaxes we had each experienced. Reluctantly harry had soon to leave, so we on wobbly legs redressed and returned to the comfort of the living room I made tea and we all sat quietly returning to the land of the living having experienced a superb if painful for her, sexual climax. After Harry left Sarah and I ate then lay on my bed, watching the sun dropping over the downs, and relaxing like an old married couple. We made love, not just fucked, it was slow, it was sensual, it. When the door opened, Sherri froze. ‘Wait, I said…’ ‘I know what you said, and I said I was sorry. I have a balcony in there, where we could breathe in some clean air. I hate smoke.’ This time, when the singer pulled her into the bedroom, Sherri followed willingly. The room was beautiful, large and tastefully decorated. The balcony was off to the left of the room, a large glass door separating the two spheres. The balcony was softly lit by an overhead lamp. The air was a bit chilly, but the quiet and cleanliness of it were worth it. Alejandra noticed Sherri shiver slightly and quickly took off her thin leather jacket, placing it gently on the small shoulders. She chuckled slightly when the shorter woman was practically engulfed by it. Alejandra walked over to the banister and propped her arms on it, lacing her fingers together as she watched the night’s sky. Sherri inched her way closer and mimicked the singer’s position. ‘You really were amazing up there, on stage.’ Alejandra.
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