I felt the ripples of her climax. She sprayed my face. A trembling hand clamped my skull. My open mouth forced to drink. My tongue delved deeper. Her pert bottom rose. I jabbed two fingers to replace my thumb lifting in unison with her gyrations. If she was still quiet, at least her body was not quiescent. Her writhing limbs, her rapid breath, the clenching of internal muscles all betrayed her lustful nature. How many consecutive orgasms I wrung from her oh-so-sophisticated aristocratic cunt, I do not now remember, but it was Miss Frothinglips who conceded the amatory field first.

Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.