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She told me the specific location of her motel and said she needed another 10 minutes. I was only a few blocks away so I drove to the motel and waited for her call back. While waiting I saw a guy with a large build leaving a room and a short time later my phone range. The reason for her delay was now obvious, she had turned a trick while waiting for me. I wasn’t angry about this just horny knowing that I’d soon be getting some ass.She looked just like her pictures from her on-line add. She was just what I wanted an attractive experience provider. She was about 5’2”, 40 years old and maybe 10 pounds overweight. She was wearing skin tight hot pants and a tank top covering her b-cup titties. I left the cash on the table and reached for her plump round ass. She melted into my arms and started kissing my face and neck which I know is unusual for most providers but something that I really enjoyed. She worked her way down and soon had my six inch cook in her mouth, bareback, and was giving. .. kiss my breasts and run your hands over my body. I-I need that so badly, Lover... someone with warmth and feeling who cares whether I live or die... Please, Antoine..." she pleaded, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. "Make me feel like a woman..."He threw himself down onto her, close to tears himself at her emotional expression of her need, and his hands gently caressed the warm, silken flesh of her body, exploring the secret hollows and creases while his mouth and tongue sought the erogenous areas of her breasts, underarms and navel... eventually even the sparse, golden, hair-covered mound of her pussy... and he lay between her wanting, spread thighs, his face a scant inch above the thin, pink slit, not touching it with his hands, but licking the tight furrow from between the creamy spheres of her buttocks up to its very tip at the base of her belly, then down again and back up... gradually insinuating his stiffening tongue between the already palpitating lips, always going.
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The agony had only just begun. The pain in her wrists and feet were overtaken by the terrible struggle to breathe. She had to force herself up against the rough cross, her raw back rubbing against the splintered wood, all her weight on her nailed feet, just to sip at the hot stifling air. Each breath cost her so much energy and pain she dreaded the one to come. She sagged back down on the cross where a phallic shaped piece of wood protruded and seemed to allow her to take some of the weight off her feet. Really, the device was to keep the nails from tearing through the flesh of her hands. There was nothing merciful about this cross. She was in her third hour of agony. Mr. Simmons had retired inside for a lunch of cold shrimp and white wine while the rest of the girls were required to watch Lisa suffer under the sun. They were growing angrier and angrier that she would not die so that they too could get out of the scalding heat. Lisa felt their hatred and didn’t understand why.

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