. pleasure?Again I flipped to the next image. Finally there she was, the white woman's face. I'll never forget that face. One of total superiority and...cockiness, looking on at my mother withering in her bonds as the long white plastic stick pressed harder against her vagina. I still couldn't tell if she was crying or moaning.Why would she be moaning?I looked back at the white woman, who was every bit the age my mother was in the picture. I guessed the both of them were in their late teens, but. OH DAMN.I pulled my condom off and laid it on Brenda’s desk then reached for my clothes. Brenda was still bent over her desk, breathing hard, her juices running down her stockings.Brad was sitting in the only chair in the small office ... his rubber still on his shrinking dick. Becky was just about dressed and she was grinning at me like we had just found a pot of gold.“Well, we need to go. We sure did enjoy fucking you. Will you let us both come over to your house, sometime and get some more?”. And every night, when I finally eased my fingers in between my legs, I would hear him stomp down the hallway as if putting distance between us would stop the tense desire between us. ‘Um, miss?’ A tiny voice called out to my left. I turned towards the sound and smiled gently. Teeta stood in the doorway of the kitchen entrance her head bowed in respect. The girl was soft spoken but, cared for me the most when I was weak. I had developed somewhat of a soft spot for her. I wondered how such a. Marvellous stuff! Should I fuck the serving slave when she arrives, he asked himself? No... better hold back for the moment. One never knew what was coming up during the day. Certainly not Melissa. It would be all of thirty six hours before she was restored to her normal condition. I'll simply have to be patient said Quentin to himself. He was almost on the point of changing his mind when the serving slave arived. She was a shapely redhead, with white skin like Rebecca's and most beautiful.
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