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Suddenly I heared the fahthers wisper in my ear: "You are a modest, honest and willing young girl. You've made a great pleasure to our son teaching him private lessons. One day I'd love to show you a little appreciation." I felt very proud about this compliments.I always was welcomed in the families of my frineds. I was invited for family parties and celebration events.One day I went to Ahmed's party at his home. During the dinner the father of Ahmed wispered in my ears, that in deep gratitude he would make a great pleasure. After the dinner he caled me on stage and presented me: "May I present you Andrea, the friend of my son Ahmed. She has made him lot of pleasure during the private lessons in the past". He opened a gift pack and revealed a nice minidress. "We gonna change your dress now my dear Andrea" he said and took my hands and we left the room. In the neighboring room I undressed my skirt and shirt and put on the new dress. It was very tight and too short. I was amazed and. At last, he pushed fully into me and held his cock, balls deep, in my ass. He pushed his groin against my ass, settling his cock deep in my hole.He leaned over my back and spoke into my ear. “You like that?” The cigar smoke puffed out with each word.“Yeah, man,” I replied. “That feels incredible.”“Glad you like it,” he said as he straightened up. He placed a hand on my hip and a hand on my shoulder, and pushed even further into my stretched hole. “Ungh,” I groaned. “Mmmmm,” he grinned.His grip on my hip and shoulder tightened as he withdrew his cock. When only the head remained, he stopped and held it there. A few quick short strokes, and he pile drove his cock back into my ass, his hand momentarily leaving my waist to slap my ass cheek. The crack of his hand on my ass my ass startled me more than the spank; it sounded like a rifle report. I flinched at the loud crack.He chuckled as he adjusted his stance, moving his feet further apart, and slightly bending his knees. Both hands now.
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Nothing more. He laid a plate before me, set his own down, and turned to relight thelamp. I couldn't meet his eyes."Fresh caught," he said. Or maybe asked.I stared down at the pink-fleshed fish, the green of wild onions on myplate."Fresh caught," he said again. "I know. Eat up, it'll get cold. Don'tworry."I ate, at first just picking at the trout. I was hungrier, though, thanI knew; or it was better than I feared. I felt another scattered bit ortwo draw closer, as if the not-quite-sweet fish, tang of the fresh-picked greens rekindled something deep inside. Sometimes, maybe, youjust need to eat.Silently, he watched me. When I finished, he took my plate, startedtowards the kitchen, stopped, sat down again and sighed."Feeling strange?"I nodded."Mmm," he said. "Again. I can always tell." "I .." It was hard to start, I tried again. "I think, I think I'm notquite who you think I am." Ah," he replied, a tiny smile. Pained? Maybe a bit sarcastic. "Likethey say, twas ever so. And who this.

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