0 comments/ 10905 views/ 1 favorites Whack! By: Dusk__Writer I often grew weary of being in the other room, clinging to the walls just to hear her cries of pain and pleasure. Though they mixed in well with the gruffness of his commands, I still hated it. I loathed it so much that I wanted it, wanted in. In, is where I would find myself soon enough. I married him knowing that he trained submissives, and referred them to other Doms. "Retirement", he called it. Not many would understand why I would enter into matrimonial agreement with someone of his tastes, but I didn't care. Fucking fates, I love the man! Even now, as I hear him pleased by the steady counts of her punishment. Even when he refuses to teach me what he has taught her, and even when he takes these 'sessions' away from home. But most of all, I hate that he won't teach me a thing or two, make me his student for one night. All I want to do is learn something, anything. The poise, respect and discipline needed in his forbidden world...the world where pain and beauty are one. So tonight before they began, I undressed completely and hid in the bedroom closet, wearing a collar similar to the ones he made his sluts wear. I wanted this side of him, and now I had to demand it. I often lay in the spot where they were whipped. I pretended to be her, here with him. The collar around my neck was my idea. I wore it when she came around...and took it off after it was over. These sessions never took more than an hour, which he said made more time for "us". Whack! "Nine...nineteen strokes, th...thank you Master." The student had been the same one for weeks now, I wanted her gone. Her words were heavy with need and her buttocks tightened at each lash of the whip. Her body tied facedown on the bed, hands and ankles secured by velcro straps connected to chains. The chains were fastened into bolts, bolts secured into the large wooden bedposts of her Master's bed...my bed. Such a privilege to be given attention during a punishment, to be shown both the pain and pleasure of what pleases Him, only Him. She didn't deserve it. She craved it, the hag. Her daunting remarks to him were said mockingly, as if she were begging him to whip her. Night after night, she arrived to play this game. And night after night, she had her way. She had Master's way. Did he know she had him by the balls? Well, that is how it appeared to me. He had no remorse in his voice, so he must know that inner slut of hers is pleased that he is at her will. The slats on the closet door hid me well enough, giving me a direct view of them both. He remained fully clothed and she lay there naked. Chained, sweating and on the edge of need. Her hips moved in a languid manner for his entertainment. I felt it as much as she did,all the while hiding in our closet just waiting to be caught snooping. After each smack to her bottom, she gasped, growing wetter by the minute. Whack! "Twenty stro...strokes, Master." He smiled at her, his student. His heart shaped faced, blue eyed temporary slave. His deceptive whore, the one I have been ignored for. I hated her. He never could have roved over my body with those same eyes, filled with lust. Those same eyes glistened with tears the night before, when He called me His only One. When He refused to punish me in this same bed, where I slept and pleasured His body, His soul, night after night. I began to weep silently as I hid in His closet, watching His hands soothe her reddened ass and thighs. I longed for those same hands on me, to be taught a lesson. To no longer be denied pleasure in pain from Him. My collar jingled as I wiped the tears away. I looked up, and saw Him look in my direction. Taking a few minutes to release and critique his student, he looked in my direction every few moments as she spoke to him. They said their goodbyes, and she left. He stepped quietly over to the closet and opened the door. I looked up, my teary eyes meeting his. Tears immediately filled my eyes, which were buried in my hands. Lashing out to Him right there would be a greater crime, more so than snooping. I flinched away from His touch, a hand caressing my head gently to calm my flowing tears. Kneeling down to my sitting form, He whispered to me... "I know what you want...and I can't bear to give it to you. I will give you what you need and want from me, for us, and that is more than what she or the others will ever have." He stood, offering me his hand and told me to sit on the bed. His slut was now gone, and it looked like He had her replace the old sheets with new ones. He had the talk with me again. Speaking words I knew to be everything but a lie. He spoke in the soft tone of a lover...and husband. He toyed with the wedding band on my left hand, and spoke some more. This time, my tears were gone and forgotten about. He told a few stories from his hour with the slut, and spoke of how she longed to be in my place. I laughed in that moment, and tried hard to push aside that jealousy. He felt it within me, because I looked into his eyes, pleading for nothing but the truth. So I told him. Everything. His gaze lingered down my body to the floor. I sighed in regret. I regretted letting him know this deep desire. Looking at the floor, his whip lay curled and ready at his feet. Kneeling, I grabbed it from the floor and placed it in his hands. The last thing he said before securing me to the bed was not shocking, yet it stirred an excited fear nonetheless. "I am your One Master. The man you chose to marry. You will be my whore for this hour tonight, for this night and no other if you scream. If you must scream, start the count over again. This being your first night, ten strokes will give you an idea of what an earned punishment consists of. If I do not understand the counting clearly or if you don't thank me after each one, we will start over and continue until I am satisfied. Do you understand?" "Yes, I understand Master." The cuffs around my wrists felt cold and sinful. My nipples hardened at the thought of what tonight would bring. "Good." His tone softened. "Do you wish this for your pleasure, or mine?" He took a few steps around the room, and dimmed the lights. Hands began to massage my calves, then my inner thighs. I moaned at his touch, and did not stir as he fit the blindfold over my eyes nor when he caressed the tip of the crop down the length of my spine. "Only you, your pleasure alone, Master. I am simply your begging slut for this hour tonight, and no other if I scream." "No dearest....are you doing this because you think I am ignoring you or because you truly are curious?" His tone changed without warning. I laughed nervously, "Well...a little bit of both I guess." Whack! "One, Master...Thank you." Whack Iraq I signed up because I had to get away from the girls in my high school who majored in the three D's: drinking, drugging, and dick. After three months at Fort Dix, I was a Weapons Specialist First Class and on my way to Qatar, or "Cutter" as we Americans call it. The base was like an American town in the middle of a foreign country, except that we had to build everything we needed, including barracks, latrines, mess halls, airstrips, garages, hangars, and a brig for prisoners. I got some real hands-on experience in the art of construction by hauling lumber, carrying water, mixing cement, and hammering nails. I can disassemble an M-16 in ninety seconds flat, but Jackson barred me from power tools. "You need balls to handle a power drill?" I asked my Sarge. "Damn straight! Ask anybody," he answered with a laugh. I started every day at work in my uniform of green shirt and pants, leather boots, and my hair pinned up under my cap. Within an hour, we sweated through everything and some of us changed into shorts. By late morning, all the guys were shirtless and we gals were down to our sports bras. We would sit together for chow at lunch, all sunburnt and sweaty. Even Jackson, a dark-hued brother, slathered the sunscreen all over. "Hey, Lisa," called a Spec First Class named Austin. "I dare you to go to Doha with me wearin' your shorts and a bra. "Oh, ho," laughed Torrez, a Tech First Class. "The emir will order her stoned or beheaded or somethin'." "Get bent, you guys!" I said with a laugh. The men knew we could take their good-natured ribbing. We napped after lunch, since the midday heat was deadly—literally! A typical day saw us resume at 1400 hours until suppertime at 1600 hours. The evenings were free simply because the war was someplace else. I stood around, smoking a cigarette and shooting the shit with a couple of women, Tiff and Kat, who were lovers. They shared a bed in the barracks. Jackson said the company commander, Lieutenant Reynolds, didn't care as long as they couldn't get pregnant. "Did he really say that?" Tiff asked aloud. "Do they think that's funny?" Kat asked rhetorically. "Assholes!" I proclaimed supportively. As darkness fell, Jackson's baritone voice came. "Lopiano, can I speak with ya a sec?" "Be right there, Sarge," I replied and bade goodnight to Kat and Tiff. Jackson stood in his office doorway and waved his arm for me to enter. As he shut the door, he said softly, "Gimme some sugar, Lisa." I put on a false face of surprise, then clamped my fingers behind the back of his neck, and kissed his full, sensuous lips. "I haven't showered," I told my Sarge as we fumbled with one another's belts, buttons, and zippers. "You like me sweatin' and stinkin'?" "I like ya every which way," said Jackson as he buried his face between my boobs while I took hold of his manly rod. I caressed his cock and whispered hoarsely in Jackson's ear, "I wanna taste your yummy chocolate bar." Sergeant Aaron Jackson shut his eyes and moaned as I slid his long bow into my mouth. I started blowing him as soon as I was deployed to Qatar and I gave him a blow job at least twice a week. He was married, so I refused to fuck. I licked his penis around the head, down the shaft, and then flicked the underside with the tip of my tongue. Next I plunged his crown with my lips while rubbing his balls with my palms. Then I crammed his Mister Man into my mouth and sucked as hard as I could till he shot his hot white foam down my throat. He came fully, but held me tightly and said, "Lemme give ya some love, baby." I stood stiffly as he rolled my shorts down to my knees, splayed his fingers through my gnarled pubies, and penetrated my garden of Venus. His touch crushed my clitoris and spread my vagina. I covered his hand and my crotch with free-flowing honey and then I quivered in orgasm. We kissed goodnight after we finished and I called him "my sweet, sweet man." I wasn't in love, but he was nice. I heard too many stories about female soldiers being raped and abused and nothing being done about it. "I wanna tell ya somethin', Lisa," Jackson announced on my way out. "But ya gotta keep it to yourself." "Sure, what is it, Sarge?" "We got orders to go into Iraq," he said ominously. "Where?" I feared Falujah and hoped for Baghdad. "Sadr City," he said, explaining, "It's Shi'a territory controlled by the Sadrist movement. They used to hate Saddam and now they hate us just as bad." "Sounds peachy," was my snarky reply. "We'll need you, Tiff, and Kat to work with the women, win their confidence," he explained unnecessarily. "I know the drill, Sarge," I told him, already feeling nervous and excited. Three days later the entire company was on the move. Our convoy of trucks, jeeps, and armored personnel carriers rolled through the cobblestone streets of a shuttered and locked down Sadr City, the northeastern section of Baghdad. Billboards of the face of Muqtada al-Sadr were everywhere. The citizens of the town didn't exactly greet us with flowers. Our mission was to secure the city for the provisional government. The Sadrists were militant, but not jihadists. They just wanted us out of their country. "This could get ugly," Jackson understated. "We can't shower or swallow water out here, ya know," Tiff announced. "Ya can take a shower," I clarified. "Ya just can't wash your privates." "Can I wash your privates?" Kat asked coquettishly. "Bite me!" I retorted and Kat blew me a kiss. I pretended to take a swing at her in slow motion and we both laughed. "Just hold your ass tight when the shootin' starts," Jackson advised us all. Lines from the "The Naked and the Dead" flashed in my memory. Our unit, Infantry Company C, followed the First Cavalry Division into Sadr City, where they were attacked by the Mahdi Army, a spinoff of the Sadrist Movement, and suffered eight dead and fifty wounded. "The Mahdi Army declared fatwas against us and al-Qaeda," Reynolds informed us as we rode bumpily in the back of the APC. "Why're they fightin' al-Qaeda?" Tiff asked. "Al-Qaeda is Sunni," the Lieutenant explained. "The Sadrists are Shi'a and the Mahdi Army is gettin' money and weapons from the Iranians, most likely through the Quds Force." "So, then, we got ourselves a three-way?" Torrez asked rhetorically. "What ya call a shit-storm," as Jackson labeled it. We camped for the night in the middle of a residential neighborhood of concrete and clay houses. We pitched tents, dug latrines, and ate a dinner of energy bars and flavored energy drinks. I threw down my bedroll between Austin and Torrez. We were scheduled for guard duty at 0400 hours, which gave us six hours to get some shut-eye. We didn't sleep. "Hey, you guys are both single, right?" I asked, swiveling my head toward one comrade and the other. They both nodded in the affirmative. "I got two condoms," I spoke in my sultriest tone of voice. I turned first to Torrez on my left, who wasted no time dropping his drawers and underwear, while I did the same. I slid a latex sheath over his tawny timber as he guided the tip to the gateway of my freshly shaven pussy. Avery rubbed my butt cheeks while Torrez owned me by pushing his red rooster all the way into my tunnel. Torrez dicked me with a hard, circular motion till his balls danced against my ass. We fucked for a couple of minutes without fanfare or foreplay. We never kissed. I even squeezed my own nipples. I grunted and came just as he filled the latex receptacle with his man's milk. Next I turned to Avery, who was decidedly more affectionate, nuzzling his head between my breasts and dithering my clitoris with his dancing fingers. I caressed his cock with both hands and pumped it a moment, inducing a pleasurable sigh, before letting him mount me and enter my garden of womanly delights. Avery fucked me with a jabbing motion that accelerated just as he came forth. I hadn't yet come, and so I beckoned him to go down on me and taste the nectar of Venus. I shuddered in orgasm a moment later. Instead of rolling over and going to sleep, Torrez grabbed me by the shoulders and whispered, "Please, Lisa, blow me." "Only if you kiss me," I told him and he did. His breath was a little bit stale, but he covered my mouth with his lips and used his tongue. He gave me a kiss and I gave him a blow job in return. I kissed, flicked, and licked his manly rod before vigorously gumming it in my mouth. He shot hot lava down my throat and I swallowed it with impassioned gulps. We three soldiers lay together in the dark night, talking about what might be in store for us the next day, until it was time to take our turn on guard duty. I sneaked a cigarette, cupped inside the palm of my hand so as not to be seen, and almost burned myself. After two and a half hours, our entire base camp sprang to life. Reynolds and Jackson came and announced our mission. "We have to go get al-Sadr's number two guy," said Reynolds. "Are we gonna knock on his door and say 'you're under arrest'?" Torrez asked flippantly. "That's exactly what we gonna do, soldier," said Jackson, who gave me a disapproving look. I think he was suspicious that I screwed around with Torrez and Avery and was jealous. We got our rifles, ammo, sidearms, electronically outfitted helmets, and body armor. Our convoy of APCs, Humvees, and jeeps rumbled down the cobbled streets and headed for a walled neighborhood where our target lived. Suddenly, a roadside bomb upended our APC and dumped us on the ground. We were scattered all around and disoriented by the blast. My ankle and wrist hurt, but I held onto my M-16 and got to my feet. A volley of gunfire ripped through the air. I didn't know whether it was ours or theirs. In the midst of a smoky haze, I saw Kat crouching with her rifle just as her chest exploded in crimson. I looked to my right and left and made a dash for the doorway that seemed to lead to a courtyard. On the other side of the wall sat Lieutenant Reynolds. I ran to his side. He was stammering incoherently and crying. He stank of feces; he had shit himself. From that spot, I looked down an alleyway and saw Torrez. I called to him, but he gave no reply. I moved toward him and saw his lifeless eyes. The back of his head was blown away. I heard the unmistakable tinkling of a tossed grenade. The jolt of the blast momentarily knocked me to the ground. I stood up and was upended again three seconds later from the blowback. After the eerie haze lifted, I saw three black-clad insurgents with what looked like AK-47s. I caressed the stock and rested my finger alongside the trigger of my weapon. I trained my sights, gently squeezed my forefinger, and got off a round with a sweeping motion. All three bad guys fell. I was the top sharpshooter in my marksmanship class in every weapons category. I paused to load a fresh magazine into my M-16 after looking around in every direction. Invisible arms hugged my shoulders and wrestled me to the ground. I hadn't looked up, where two men were poised to jump down on me. I punched one in the face and the other in the stomach, but he managed to drive his rifle butt into my rib cage. Then a fist in my face sent broken teeth and blood down my throat. I reached for my sidearm pistol and another fist broke my nose. As I tried to struggle free of my attackers, I took a hard knee to the chin. I collapsed to the ground, as one of them delivered a vicious kick between my legs, and I sensed he enjoyed it. The sharp pains told me my wrist, ankle, and a couple of ribs were broken. Just before I lost consciousness, I remember wondering why they didn't shoot me. I woke hours or even days later for all I knew in a dank room, enveloped in stark darkness, with my hands and feet tied by old-fashioned hemp-twined rope to a cot with a threadbare mattress. I was a prisoner. The place smelled of kerosene, mildew, and human excrement. I tried to scream, but my mouth was covered with a strip of duct tape. I managed to emit a high-pitched squeal. A few moments passed and a brief ray of light entered the room as the door swung open. A stout, short man stood and shouted in Arabic, "Shut up, whore!" Instead I squealed all the more and bucked up and down as if I could break the bindings that held me. The man came toward me and shouted again in Arabic, "Shut up, bitch!" Then he smacked me across the face with the back of his meaty hand. I stayed quiet. With a disgusted expression, my jailer pressed his hands on the front of my pants. I had soiled myself. With a snort, he turned and left. Only a few minutes passed and he returned to my bedside. My captor carried a plate of food and a cup. Then he produced a big butcher knife and my heart raced as he placed the tip over my mouth and cut an opening in the tape. Oddly, I was grateful that he didn't rip off the tape. Gently, he fed me a bit of bread, a slice of meat, probably lamb, and a piece of fig with his dirty hands. He held a cup to my mouth and I flinched. When I caught a whiff, I realized it wasn't water, but some sort of homemade alcohol. I took a sip and it burned going down, but it was a good burn. Then my keeper thumped his chest and said, "Abood." I understood and responded, "Lisa." I would be goddamned if I gave this fucker my name, rank, and serial number. He took away the plate and cup and returned an hour or so later with a pitcher, basin, and a washcloth. The soldier in me was ready to take advantage of being allowed to clean myself up. However, that wasn't going to happen. Abood opened my shirt, pulled down my pants, and undressed me while I was tied to the bed. Humiliated and helpless, he washed me from head to foot with remarkable gentleness. He even wiped down my matted hair. Afterward, he reassembled my camouflage khaki uniform, sans the body armor, as if he were dressing a baby doll. I still hoped for the chance to kill him. Abood left me alone for a couple of hours. I tried to survey the room for useful objects or defects in the environment of my captivity. The only possibility was to wriggle out of the ropes and overpower my guard upon his return. I had made little headway, since the rope's knots were impeccably tight, by the time Abood came back. He spoke with the same softer voice he had used when he washed me earlier, but now he wanted something in return. He extracted his repayment by climbing on top of me, unbuttoning his pants, and waving his raw sausage in front of my face. I thrashed my head from side to side as he rubbed the crown of his prick over my mouth, still partially taped. He shot several spurts of semen onto my lips before stuffing his cock between my lips. I wanted to bite him, but thought better of it, and felt sick about my lost front teeth. Abood's foul odor caused me to gag as he moved his attention to my nether regions. He yanked down my pants and used both hands to part my legs. He pounded me for what seemed like an hour and deposited his foul emissions in my cunt, my ass, and my mouth a second time. Stubbornly, I refused to scream, cry, or even make a sound. Finally, he was done with his nasty deed and meticulously fixed my clothing before going away. Exhaustion led me to labored rather than restful sleep. I cried for Kat and Torrez, prayed that the rest of the company was safe, and even forgave Reynolds for wimping out. I wondered if there were reports on the news of a female soldier taken prisoner, or if I was officially a hostage. Maybe I was just MIA. Anyway, I might survive, but I was afraid I would go crazy. The next morning Abood returned with another plate of food, a cup of wine, and wash basin. He fed me, bathed me, and spoke to me in Arabic. Yet I refused to talk, which annoyed him, but he didn't beat me. Alone in stark darkness, unable to function normally, I lost track of time. So, I have no idea if it was day or night when my next horror began. Abood ushered half a dozen armed militants into the room where I was imprisoned. I could foresee what was about to happen. They shouted, cursed, and gestured toward my prostrate body tied to the cot and stacked their weapons against the wall to my right. I would survive this by giving each of my tormenters a comical name and studying them for a weakness that I could exploit to make my escape. The first one to assault me had a long, pointy nose, and so I called him Pinocchio. He had the privilege of ripping off my shirt and pants. Pinocchio cruelly manhandled my vagina while smacking me in the face with his clublike dick. After making me suck it, he yanked it out of my mouth and slapped my face. Pinocchio railed at me in Arabic as he drilled me and filled my well with his filth. The second assailant was short and blubbery lipped. I named him Dopey. He slobbered all over me, licking and drooling on my breasts, tummy, thighs, and pussy. He put half his dose of nastiness in my font and another half in my butt hole. Bastard number three stunk of sweat, shit, and grease, earning the odiferous nickname of Skunk Stanky. He gripped me by the throat and raped me entirely by the mouth. When he withdrew his stubby appendage from my lips, I spewed vomit all over him and myself. The fourth violator savagely bit my breasts, neck, stomach, and thighs, a couple of the bites drawing blood. He was Vic Vicious. Vic rolled me on my side and sodomized me. When he reamed my already bloody anus, I felt the cinched rope loosen around my left wrist. I survived my degradation because I saw my way out of this hell. The fifth was Bashful, who only seemed to participate because of peer pressure. I think I frightened him by kissing him when he put his small tool in my font. He was distracted as we fornicated and didn't notice that I had freed one arm and one leg from the rope ties. The sixth and final brute straddled me and doused me with urine between shooting wads in my cunt and mouth. The piss stung the bite wounds, but enflamed my ardor to make my escape—and kill them all in the process. The automatic weapons stacked in the corner were all locked and loaded. I focused on the two weak links, Abood and Bashful. My blubbery old jailer was making preparations to clean me up. So, nobody was watching as I wiggled my unbound hands and feet. I took a deep breath and emitted a primal scream that distracted and terrified the roomful of unschooled warriors. I leapt from the bed and lunged at Abood, who tried to cower, but I latched onto his arm and flung him at Dopey and Pinocchio, bowling over the two fuckers. I reached for the AK-47 on top of the stack and swung it around with my forefinger on the trigger. I sprayed the room from right to left and back again in two mirrored 180-degree arcs. I, Lisa, the goddess of war, emptied the semi-automatic and picked up a second one. In a storm of blood and gore, one guy swooned and another guy twitched. A round of thirty hot bullets stilled all life in the room except for mine. On my way out the doorway, I spat on Abood, who wasn't even a real enemy combatant. They hadn't raped me; they raped America, Westernization, and modernity. They didn't even see me as a person. I symbolized their loss of control in the world and that was what they tried to defeat, but they failed. I carried two AK-47s, a finger alongside the trigger of each, as I ran through stony rubble. I was the naked female avenger gliding stiff-legged and invincible through the streets of Sadr City. I would kill anyone that approached me and no one dared. Despite the pain and filth, I was invincible. It was too much to hope for being rescued by Infantry Company C. Yet that was what they were trying to do while I was being held. No soldier is left behind and they were not far away. Whack Iraq Jackson saw me first and called Tiff and Avery to come quickly. A moment later, the three of them wrapped me in an embrace, despite the fact that my defiled person was a slimy, rank cesspool. They embraced the soldier, not my dirty body. No, I didn't return to combat. I went to recuperate for four months in Germany and then home to my family in Connecticut. I would never tell my parents the story of my captivity. They could never understand. That's okay with me. I was a soldier and I got a little beat up. I am not a hero. I only did what I had to do to defeat the enemy. I'm a woman. I'm a vet. I'm strong. This is my story. Whacking Material The room was white, all white. The walls were bright, sanitary white. There wasn't a visible door. The floors were white and the overhead lights cast back from them with blinding brilliance. The ceiling was one vast, white light. Each wall had one table distending from it. Each table was painted white and was about waist high and had a white cushion on it. Each of the tables had a girl on it. Only half of each girls' body was exposed, no arms, no breasts, no head. The bodies started just below the breasts and ended at the feet. Every thing else was in the wall somehow. All of the body's were painted white. Only the lips of the vaginas were flesh color. All of their pussies were cleanly shaven. Each of the bodies was in a different position. The table on my left had a girl lying on her side, in kind of a fetal position, her knees together and bent, her feet even with her ass. The table in the wall on my right had a girl on her stomach, her back slightly arched, her bottom pushed out, fleshy and round. The girl in the wall directly in front of me was on her back with her knees bent and her feet flat on the table. The girl on the wall behind me was also on her back but her knees were up against the wall, her ankles were somehow fastened to the wall, her ass was about six inches off the table. Each of their bodies was perfectly positioned so their pussies were right at the edge of the table. All of the, shiny white bodies were gyrating at the hip, rubbing and grinding, their pussies glistening with moisture under the infinite white light. My cock was pulsing. I was totally naked. I looked down. Everything but my penis was a moist white. I was totally shaven, not a hair on my body. I reached up and felt my bald head. I reached down with both hands, alternately looking at all four bodies, rubbing my balls with one hand, my cock with the other. There was a coating of some kind of lubricant all over my body. My hands slid softly on my testicles and up and down my shaft. I watched all four moist bodies one at a time and decided I liked the one in the fetal position. I walked up to her, still rubbing myself. When I was about three feet away I noticed a white cushion on the floor, at the foot of the table. I knelt on the cushion. I watched her ass move. Her pussy was dark pink and swollen. Her lips were open enough for me to see inside her. I touched her clitoris with my finger. Goosebumps appeared all over her and my finger and the back of my hand was drenched with her wetness. I put two fingers in, they slid right in. My hands were off my cock now and it just bulged, aching and flexing. I pushed my fingers in deep and held them as far as they would go. I put my head down and teased her tight ass hole with my tongue. She responded by pushing against my fingers and producing more wet. Finally I was eating her. I had my tongue inside her, my cheeks were sliding between her cheeks and my middle finger was in her ass hole past the second knuckle. I pulled my head up but kept my finger in her. I rested the head of my dick against her opening and watched her squirm. She pushed toward my cock but she couldn't reach it. When she started to give up I jammed my thickness to the back of her box. The juicy pussy noises started me fucking and poking her, in and out, ramming, ramming. My shaven balls were even going inside her with each thrust. I held my entire genital package inside her as I reached climax. My back knotted as I backed away from her. I made idiotic orgasm sounds and couldn't bear to touch my sensitive prick. I sat on my knees out of breath and couldn't believe there were three more dripping pussies waiting to be fucked.