...please....." She heard the shackles unclick and felt them fall away from her wrists. She didn't hesitate to raise her hands to his chest and traile... her hands over his rippled chest and hard shoulders, until she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him. Ulffriic understood and growled in dominance as he lined the head of his massive monstrous cock with the opening of her lips, and with a long, slow, and gentle thrust, he pushed into her until his tip pressed against her cervix. He. His father, Keith Sanders, had married in March (no ceremony, just a court house wedding and that's it – he told Aaron not to bother to fly back home to Phoenix for it so it wouldn't interrupt his studies during his last few months of school) and now it was June. Aaron was 23, had just graduated Pitt and was looking for a job. He had been the Panthers starting quarterback the two previous years and had garnered some NFL draft buzz, but this last year he suffered a season-ending injury three. "Please, I'm not used to fisting!" They fisted harder and deeper, my orgasm at breaking point. My sweet cum spurted over their fists as I cried out in pleasure and pain, but they didn't stop. They only added their other fists. The pain was too much, my vision was going black, and the orgasms were rocking my body hard. Their arms were drenched from my cum. "Please," I whispered, "it's going to kill me. Please." Tears were running over my breasts and they finally pulled out. They chained my legs. Naked, but for their underwear they didn’t stop kissing, touching and pressing together. His hand went to her breast and fondled her nipple through the thin material. His other was behind her cupping her arse, nearly lifting her off her feet, the tips of his fingers surely at the entrance to her vagina. The audience were silent except for the occasional intake of breath. After what seemed an age a curtain opened at the rear of the stage to reveal a bed. One went to each side, grabbed a corner.
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