Like objets d’arts. To be admired, used, then sold when no longer required. A nice feeling that. Also nice to know that he could have either or both...any time he wished. As it happened, he was feeling rather lazy. More like drinking. Perhaps, during a drowsy afternoon, he would have one of them suck him. Something that didn’t require a great deal of effort from him. Thank God for Madame Vesta’s pills... they kept him in fine sexual fettle. Without them, Quentin did not think he would be able to. Normally I'd not bother, but the party was planned for a pub which was run by one of the girls from Sixth Form, and the prospect of a free bar was too much to resist! I'd also always had a little thing for the organiser (I'll call her Jo) and was curious to see what had happened to her.When I walked in I was immediately glad I'd come. Jo was just as stunning as at school. Long curly hair, big brown eyes and an amazing cleavage. Her figure was shown to its best in a low-cut, tight red dress. More

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