My name is Julie, and I knew from the way Colette looked at me this morning what she wanted. Now I lie on the red carpet in my yellow skirt, between the percussion set and the black leather sofa, and she takes her throne. Her golden curls fall forward, her black mesh top brushes my skin, and then it is full-weight facesitting, slow grinding, her thighs closing in, Colette taking exactly what she has been craving all day. I squirm, but I am not going anywhere, and deep inside I don't want to. I surrender and ask for more without a word.

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