The room began to bend in toward her, Allen's laughing shape wavered before her eyes. Her mind reeled."Stop! Stop," she panted, trying to fight the teasing, hungry need he was stimulating in her."You like that, don't you, bitch?" Allen shoved his fingers in brutally. "You like that." No," she whispered. "No. I don't." Yes you do." He jacked them in and out faster. The blood- filled clitoris bulged out against his finger, aching for more and more attention.Gwen tried to buck her hips. The ropes burned against her wrists and ankles. The pillow beneath her head was damp and soggy from the tears that rolled down her face as she struggled not to respond.Her body betrayed her, arching up against the pain of her bounds, driving itself against his finger."Fuck. Fuck me, Allen," she whimpered, her mind jiggling like lusty Jello in her head. "I need it. I can't help it." You lie. You're just a whore. A rotten whore."He jerked the finger away and she began to cry, twisting her arms and trying. Helen called us in the car after breakfast having planned a session in the gym, sauna and beauty parlour, alright for some I thought. We arrive unpacked and met Helen at 1pm in the reception to go to lunch. I know the area well and had booked a lunchtime pub, typical London booser from the outside, but boutique decor, guinness, nice lunches and TV to watch the Rugby. The girls had salad as I tucked into a burger and found myself more at the bar talking to fellow rugby watches. I have to admit the girls looked good and got a lot of admiring looks from the guys I was talking to and other males in the bar. The guys asked me what our relationship was? I thought about saying they were Hookers, but this might have backfired so I said just friends. After a long lunch we all went back the the Hotel to rest and get ready to meet Joe in another local but more authentic London pub later.As the wife showered I was tempted to jump in and ravish her, but she was having none of it. She was keen to.
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