That would go in my duffel bag along with a jumper and a few other things I might want with me all the time. I had pondered what books to take and had...settled on Thomas Mann’s Der Tod in Venedig and Shakespeare’s Sonnets, both of which were set texts. After a moment, I added my pure Maths textbook to leaven the mixture and slipped the picture of Herr Schmidt I had cut from the newspaper into it. I wanted to make sure I recognised him in the unlikely event that I saw him. After a moment’s. With your hands free you rub my clit taking the edge of the pain of being stuffed by your cock; as I start to moan you ask me if I like being such a slut for you; you tell me to breathe, to shush and to calm down; whilst you steadily fuck my ass, you tell me to be a good girl and not to cum; you make me pinch my own nipples each time you rub my clit - for 10 seconds at a time; the pain/pleasure combo has me near hysterical, fighting my own orgasm but I’m obeying your orders to be good, to be. More

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