I stamped my feet and sighed dramatically along with the others until I saw the cause of the logjam: A vision of Far Eastern loveliness in a skirt shorter than Heather Locklear’s on ‘Melrose Place’ had emptied her bag and all her pockets, and still kept setting off the detector. Her narrow little cunt fit my dick like a glove. She gracefully alighted from her perch and eased her lithe body onto my throbbing prick, facing me. “Fuck me now, before we’re interrupted again,” demanded the girl, releasing me from her legs and pushing me back onto the toilet. As soon as she was gone, I headed for the bathroom to quickly whack off, covering my crotch with an issue of ‘Elle’ which would serve me once I was in the restroom as well. As she slid up and down, she drew in her muff muscles, squeezing my rod even tighter, until I thought the head would burst open, flooding her insides with bubbling crude. As everyone stared in astonishment, she stuck a hand under her skirt and squatted as if she were about to take a dump
