..he said he had thought that today he would make passionate love to her , she didn't want to look disappointed but didn't want to upset him , then he carried on and what he actually whispered was ....he did think about making love to her but ...and as he said this his hand tightened his grip hard on her hair and he said he was going to give her the fucking of her life , she squealed with delight.He pulled her hair tighter. This excited her and he told her still quietly that she look liked a fucking whore dressed like that and she was going to get fucked like one , her cunt throbbed at the thought .His hand kept its grip on her hair and held her firm , he stood up and instructed her to undo his trousers.She didn't need to be asked twice and unzipped him.His cock was already rock hard and she leaned into it but he yanked her head back and told her to wait.He started to wank inches from her face. Oh god! she wanted to taste him.to suck him , and she stuck out her tongue to taste but he. She moved like that for what seemed to be days. I followed her movements curiously. What was she doing? What was this supposed to do to me? Did they do all this to dance for me? The questions fought for space. Her motions began to build on each other. She drew her arms over her head. Her breasts rose and were pushed together, forming a strict parabola for my eyes to follow. Her hips circled. She turned slowly, twirling her projected hips quickly. I was afraid, but more and more my eyes found her motions soothing. Comforting. Enthralling. She came closer, then abruptly stopped several inches away. She ran her hands up and down her sides as she danced, allowing my eyes time to take her in. She was Italian and apparently had been in the sun a lot. Her skin was the color of coffee and cream. I wanted to lick her up and down, guilt be damned. See if she tasted as good as she looked. I felt her fingers drag along the hair on my lower thigh. Her touch felt like electricity. My leg twitched.
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