He put his hand up her skirt. What drove his passion hardest wasn't the softness of her skin, the sexiness of her body, nor the scent of her perfume, ...elightful as all three were. It was the emotion on her face, the helplessness, as if she was a real slave. Phil owned her, so only his feelings mattered. The sense of liberation that gave him was extraordinary. It was belied by how wet her cunt was, a wetness totally at odds with the expression of fear and pain on her face. He fingered her, far. The two sets of fingers soon became two hands and I was in a euphoric state slobbering over a cock and the hands splitting me open. It wasn't long before one thumb got pushed in and with that came the second, quickly followed by rippling of knuckles and then the fullness of two complete hands up to the wrists. It took a bit of discussion between the two bears as to whom wanted to go first, but soon they unclasped their hands and one formed a tight fist inside of me while the other left his palm. More

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