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”“Yes,” I moaned. “Fuck, Clint.” I humped the air, the seatbelt fighting to keep me down. “Faster. Speed. Jesus, drive like you do when you play Grand Theft Auto.”“Running over pedestrians on the sidewalk?” Clint asked. “Hitting every car in sight? That won’t get us there faster.”My toes curled in my shoes. The last bit of the Popsicle melted. The last bit of ice gone, leaving a wet mess slowly heating up by my desires. I threw back my head, groaning again as the SUV turned onto our street.And. Equally devoted to the study of militarytactics and the works of Marquis De Sade, they were a twisted lot. Trace usedto say that his family considered arms their profession and pain their hobby. How did a nice girl like me from Lowell, Massachusetts get mixed upwith this group of patriotic sadists? Well for one thing, I'm not all thatnice. My predilection for reaching an orgasm only after a sound flogging hadbrought Trace Donaldson and I together. We'd met at a place in Manhattan calledthe. "She did come every night. What did we do? I owe you details.Yes, she saw me naked, stroking my erect penis. I was embarrassed. She was smiling. She came closer, gave me a slight hug and whispered, "Do not lock the door. I will come tonight."Finishing in the bathroom and coming back to the bedroom, I kept waiting. An hour must have passed like one century. She did not come. I kept waiting. There were no sounds of her coming. I had hardly decided to masturbate and go to sleep, when I heard the. He approached me with his flaccid cock still looking rather large. Instinctively, I opened my mouth once he was directly in front of me and took the limp dick in. "Good, now I just want you to swirl my dick around your tongue a little, but don't suck it. I don't want to get fully hard yet."I was enjoying the sensation of his soft cock in my mouth, exploring it. I continued moving my tongue around the surface, feeling the shaft, the head, flicking my tongue at his pee hole. These were still all.
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