In Cordelia's mind, humiliation and pleasure was fighting with common sense shaking its head from the sidelines. She felt her strenght and will spent and weak from her orgasm, but as the pole was again turning under her, she could not resttoo long. Waddling forward in an increasingly dexterous manner - she was still herself, and could not stop holding her head high and acting like a princess - Cordelia was soon realising that her arousal wasn't diminishing that much, encouraged by the bumps.<br/><br/>Bumping into someone didn't helped either, as her hands encountered slick skintight latex with curves like hers, and she wasn't able to go forward and finish this round...<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(147, 101, 184)">"Having fun, A...lex, or is it Sam?"</span>Cordelia started asking and followed up in time with their pretend names sheepishly. She was still breathing a little harder and almost purring, her hands - and throbbing arousal - finding the slickness on the other girl's bodyfun to play with, not even realising that she was oiling up her own hands with the stroking and groping.<br/><br/>And was those squishy bumps the ectoplasts?