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She felt more than heard his own low groan of pleasure as he stroked her ass and fucked her pussy, and languidly, torturously lapped at her spasming clit. She moaned and ground against him in breathless ecstasy, unable to stop her hips from circling deeper, pushing back into his fingers, straining to meet his every touch. "Oh God." she cried, as his mouth began to work feverishly, his tongue flicking over her as his own breathing quickened at the way her body responded to him. His fingers. Holding on to one set of the straps she let go of the other set and allowed her suit free rein to fall off. Because it was wet it didn’t do so immediately but rather continued to adhere to her skin. As she walked, however, her movements dislodged the adherence and the suit gradually began slipping down, uncovering more and more of her smooth tummy. I could almost hear everyone holding their collective breaths waiting to see if she was really going to let the suit fall completely off, baring her. Their amateurism also made them easy to catch... He sipped a bottled water and watched Tabitha begin feebly moving around. The breast-nailing thing had proven to be major entertainment; next time he was hired to torture a woman, he'd have to repeat it. Slaves generally sold better without a lot of scars and marks -- especially on the tops of their breasts -- but a torture victim, especially one to be disposed of quietly after, imposed no such limitations.The end of Dumbjohn's break was signaled. After another month of our role play during sex, Brit was almost exclusively using Naresh as my fantasy replacement. She was apparently enthralled by the novelty of having an interracial encounter with a dark-skinned, Indian man, and from what she heard about his big, black cock. I was even more curious because she came home a little late several nights each week.One night when we were cuddling after fucking, I asked her, “Brit, it’s become apparent to me that you've been focusing our fantasies.
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