“That was great, but that is not what your were imagining last night was it?”“Well, I had imagined us doing something else.”“Tell me what yo... wanted to do to me.”“I was imagining I was fucking you.” She climbed on top of him pushing his head into her breasts. “Oh yes is that you wanted then do it. Fuck me like you want to.” It took me a few seconds to register what she was saying. That and I was too busy burying my face in her tits to hear that the hottest girl in the world was telling me to. All restraint had gone, she placed her hand over her pubic region to try and stem the flow as the rush continued but to no avail. Then she started to rub her right hand up and down over her clitoris, while her left hand continued to massage her boobs. The pleasure was so intense that she knew she was going to scream, she had to stop herself but the urge and build up was too much. She continued to rub her clit which was turning her on more and more. Meanwhile cum continued to pour out of her. My dick hurt like hell so much blood was coursing through it, but I was doing whatever she wanted. I alternated moving my tongue slowly and quickly over her rosebud, while running the fingers of one hand up and down her ass crack, and massaging one of her enchanting inner thighs with the other. I must have been doing a good job because she was emitting all sorts of pleasure sounds, and occasionally a buttocks or thigh muscle would involuntarily twitch. But after about ten minutes of this my. I can't tell you what I don't know. Please don't do this. If I knew anything I would tell..." His fist cracked against her jaw. The force of the punch knocked her senseless. "Bitch," he cried, tearing her flimsy, high cut, cotton panties from around her waist and flinging them across the room. Robert rolled off the bed in a rage and went into the bathroom to check on Marisa. She was still unconscious. In a rage Robert ripped the towel rail from the wall and was about to bring it down on her.
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My eyes meeting yours, again. And again. You will come over to me as I slip my foot back in my shoe, smile and say, ‘Typical, isn’t it?’ I will
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