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“Is that what you lazy American cunts call fucking? Really bust that pussy, bitch! Bust it now or I’ll pistol-whip your husband.”Fear flared in Amy’s eyes to vie with the surging lust. Her hands gripped his shoulders, her knuckles white as she slammed her quim on his cock so hard again and again, the loud SMACK of their bodies joining now echoing across the deck. Scott looked down, watched as her cunt plunged downward to take in every inch of his straining penis. His cock felt her cunt muscles squeeze him tightly like a velvet glove. Her breasts bounced frantically, shaking for all to see as she fucked him with a desperation she hadn’t had before. “That’s more like it,” Imari grunted. He pinched Amy’s right nipple once more, just for the sadistic pleasure of it, before moving on to check on the other couples. Maybe it was this horror-fueled fascination, but Scott couldn’t help himself. He glanced over to check on Jennifer. Poor Jen. The teenage girl was gingerly straddling Mark’s. Seeing that she was going to wait for him, Dave slowed down and walked over to her."What do you want, Dave?" Listen," Dave said and put out his hand. "We were married for close to twenty years. I don't wanna fight. How 'bout we shake and part as friends?"She never even glanced down at his hand. "Fine, whatever." She slapped her hand into his. Dave was sure the pin had gotten her."Ow!" she screamed a second later and pulled her hand away."What is it?" he asked and stepped forward, appearing concerned."Something stabbed me." She held her hand out and showed him the trickle of blood coming from the palm of her hand."Oh, that looks painful."Even as he said it, Dave watched Rebecca's eyes glaze over and turn glassy. She fell back against the car. The blood on her hand, all but forgotten as she clutched her stomach and moaned."You okay, Becky?" I ... Oh, shit!" Beck? What's wrong?"She was panting, trying to catch her breath as her hand slid down her shirt to her white, billowy skirt and.
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As much as I loved masturbating and took some pretty crazy risks doing it with the family in the house, the prospect of actually getting caught had always terrified me - it was bad enough the couple of times my sister had barged into my room without knocking, and I'd had to blushingly act as though there was a perfectly innocent explanation for diving under the covers in the middle of the day...I began to imagine doing it in more and more risky situations, and the more I let my imagination run wild the hotter the fantasies became. It wasn't just when I was home in bed - at school or out in town I'd think of secret spots where I could reach under my skirt and rub my little pussy without anyone realising.Inevitably the fantasy became too enticing to resist, although when I first made it reality it was (I realise now) in about the most clichéd way possible. I'd often sit bored in class, letting my mind wander to naughty little daydreams about the girls around me, and some days for my.

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