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She was young, pretty, shy and a stay-at-home mom.

We always tipped her well and the look on her face showed she was enjoying every moment of it. I noticed that when I gave her a glimpse of my asshole, she got particularly excited.

Sean was just as much of an exhibitionist as me and was always hard for me. It felt good to know that while his wife was home making roast chicken and parsnips, he was pounding me from behind in a cheap motel. I was leaving town soon and didn't care who saw me.

Once, I even saw the local Archbishop walking toward his car - I recognized him from a Christmas mass I'd attended with a friend the year before. Sean was kissing my neck and groping my tits as he fucked me standing up. I was bracing myself against a table in front of the window, and I made eye contact with the Archbishop. Shit, that made me cream.

But as you know, that wasn't all. A few weeks after I met Sean, I responded to a personals ad in the Telegraph-Journal. "Personable, pleasure-giving erotic massage guru, mid-20's, seeks like-minded woman for disinhibited, hedonistic exploration." I got Maggie to take two Polaroids, one of my fishnet-clad calves and one of my exposed tits, and mailed them in with a note: "I want you to please me. Coffee?"

After exchanging a couple more messages, we met at the McTavish Bakery on Sydney Street. Eric arrived early and bought us both cupcakes, along with a loaf of multigrain bread for me to take home. Smart tactical move. I was very open to hearing what this late-20's gentleman with the Nordic dirty blonde hair had to offer me. As he talked, I wasn't surprised that he turned out to be a psychology lecturer at the University of New Brunswick.

It was a titillating contrast. While Sean just wanted to fuck the shit out of me, over and over again, Eric was a talker, always looking to explore my fantasies and my body and discover new, kinky ways to get off together.

At that first bakery meeting, he sipped his coffee and listened with rapt attention as I told him about how the previous Sunday, Sean and I had tipped Jennifer $20 to stay in the room and watch as I first gave him a blowjob on the bed and then rode his thick cock until he blew a load in me.

"I'd like to get her to join in, but I think she's too shy," I told Eric. "But it's good that she's watching and seeing everything, and has to clean up our come-soaked sheets when we're done. My pleasure comes first. Wouldn't you agree?"

Eric nodded. "Tell me what you want."

A group of customers left the bakery as I leaned forward. "I want you to take me to your apartment and give me one of these nasty massages you've been talking up. But right now? You see this green sweater I'm wearing? You can tell I've got no bra on, right? I'm going to lift up my sweater now with the baker in the kitchen, and I want you to suck my nipple right here in public."

Eric gaped - but then happily obeyed. Both my nipples hardened with delight as he sucked me in deep, his tongue giving me one last flickering burst of goodness as the bell tinkled and new customers marched in.

Back at his apartment off Orange Street, we spent a delicious afternoon in fuck-play. Halfway through the massage on his red-checked quilt, he had me arching my back in delight and showing him my clenching anus and engorged cunt.

At the bakery, I'd mentioned my background as an actress, and now he fucked my mind with a fantasy about having group sex on stage at the Imperial Theater right before he ate me out to my complete satisfaction. He buried his face in my thatch, and his tongue vibrated my clit even better than that big toy I'd bought on a road trip to Portland a few years earlier. I left a juicy wet spot on the quilt after he straddled over me and inserted two fingers up my soaked cunt to milk my G-spot out. As my body stiffened up into ecstasy, I got even louder than with Sean when I let go.

The excitement of having two different men two different ways, multiple times a week, had me masturbating myself into a frenzy when I was at my place, too.

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