"I'm a bit of a magician, among other talents," he says, peeling up her loose skirt as if it were a tablecloth he was peeking under. "Your friend has asked me to give a bit of a demonstration. Disappointed she changed her mind at the last minute and refuses to pay my booking fee." One of his hands strokes her bottom once more, caressing sleek panties and smooth flesh now instead of skirt. "So I decided I might as well give another kind of performance..." his other hand works the dial on the helium tank and tugs at the hose. "for free." And with that, quick as a flash, his fingers pull her panties back and aside, spread her cheeks, and—PLOOMP—insert the end of the hose right up to the pert rosebud of her asshole. This all happens in moments. Her skirt is lifted. The drink is cold. So is the hose between her cheeks, and it is spilling gas. He chuckles lightly behind her ear.She paused for a moment and shuddered as the feel of the cold nozzle and leaking gas took her by surprise. Any. He pulled her tightly against him, and hauled her up into his lap. ‘Lauren… God…’ He murmured. He swept his tongue over her lips, and she welcomed it between them, to search her mouth. He tasted like the wine, a taste that was, in the moment even more intoxicating then the alcohol itself. He set down the bottle away from them, and returned his now free hand to her hips, and let it slide up her body to one of her breasts. He squeezed it lightly to feel her response, which he was pleased to find was a light moan, and a slight stiffening of her body. She started to unbutton his shirt, clumsily. He shifted uncomfortably beneath her, his fingers coming down only long enough to worm their way under her shirt, and then back up her body, and under her bra to tease the already stiffened nipple of her breast directly. She worked quickly, under this new incentive, and pulled his shirt apart recklessly, her fingers drawing over the warm skin of his chest, searching the curves of muscles and the.
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