Her pupils dilate. Pulling on her hair, I fuck her hard. Stretching her squishy pussy with every thrust. My hips repeatedly slap against her peachy ar...e. The rutting sounds echo off the bathroom walls. A lascivious counterpoint to her mistress’s smoking prattle.“You need Mistress’s permission to touch your clit?” I ask, relentlessly impaling her squelching folds with my thick girlcock. Using her to shape my orgasm.She nods, agreeing. But her aroma of needy arousal is now tinged with the erotic. I was pleasantly surprised when it didn't. Not really. There was a noticeable difference. There was nothing real, nothing alive about the phallus that had filled me then. Pleasure yes, and even that in a different sense. This was real. This had internal warmth, a heartbeat of its own perhaps, a throbbing that was born of need and desire, now matching my own. It was so unlike the sensation I'd felt when Sharon had fucked me. This had depth, a sense of being ... of joining, unlike anything I had. More

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