"First blow?" He hit me with his left. Low on my right side." I could still feel the impact. I flinched."Focus! You are a rock. He hit your ribs and c...acked one. Why didn't you kill him then?" she demanded."I couldn't, Whitney. You don't understand..." Second blow?" A right to the jaw." I pointed at the spot."And you didn't kill him." I shook my head. "Third blow?" My right eye. It's kind of a mess. They're never going to want me back on television." And then you killed him?" I intended to. I. .he asked if I like...I just mumbled...he came closer...he sk** his heel under my jeans covered balls. I was very aroused...I felt his legs and they were silky smooth...his cock was right in my face...he guided it to my mouth...I took it in...tasty...I was touching his heels...the coolness of the leather was heavenly. He began to pump faster..I was really enjoying...tasting his thick precum. Before long he began to moan and his thrusts increased. I knew he was close so I doubled down and sucked. My submissive side was forced to take center stage and sometimes it was a bit difficult, but I found a way to embrace it. Derrick, for all intents and purposes, made me his bitch. He loved to stretch me with his fingers, lick me anywhere he wanted. He wanted me to call him "boss" when we were in the bedroom. He was never cruel, but he was always dominant. For example, when I was a little tight, he wouldn't just ram his eight and a half up my ass, he would work me, always allow me to adjust, but. Signing the check, I quickly rose from the table, extending my hand to her. ‘Come on.’ I whispered, ‘We’ll find a place.’ As we made our way through the crowded restaurant, our fingers played a love game of their own, uncontrollably stroking, tickling and caressing each other as the tension increased. Near the exit, I spotted a small glowing sign, [Rest rooms] it proclaimed. ‘In here,’ I whispered, glancing around quickly before pulling her into the empty men’s room. ‘Here,’ I whispered nearly.
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