Another pause. My tits throb, my breathing comes in whimpering gasps that makes my chest heave, and the movement only causes even greater pain. My ski... craves the soothing relief of a gentle rub. But I feel the hands on my tits once more, and I know there will be no letting up. The fingers probe my tender flesh, making me gasp and wince. My nipples are squeezed, a slow yet remorseless pincher grip. The pressure builds and with it the pain. I hold my breath, fighting back the urge to scream, but. Even though she was conservatively dressed, she was turning me on. At one point, during dinner, I caught her eyes, glancing my way. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes had a glassy glaze, until she snapped out of her trance and turned away. I can only imagine what she was thinking.Liz Thompson, the Maid of Honor, my escort, was a knockout. She was physically a "perfect match" for me in the bridal party sense. She stood just over six feet tall, and with heels equaled my six four frame. She was. More

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