Please!” Becca shouted.Anna stopped tapping. “Tell me, Becca!” Anna commanded. “Tell me you love me and will do whatever I tell you. Or I won�...�t allow you to cum.” Ann said.Becca’s entire body was consumed with the need to cum. “I love you, Anna,” she screamed. “I will do whatever you ask,” she added.Anna replied, "Tell me you are my slut. My dirty dyke pussy slut.”Inside Becca’s mind rebelled. I am not a lesbian slut she thought. But her body told her other wise. She had to cum and she could. My wife simply smiled and walked away happy and apparently satisfied in her having teased me as she had. Later she invited me to help with dinner, something that I quickly accepted. In the kitchen we both worked to prepare an enjoyable meal while at the same time taking every opportunity to touch or rub against one another. During dinner she offered me a drink that I accepted with the hopes that it might help to ward away the fears that still hung in the back of my thoughts. After dinner. Here was Celeste DuPont’s inner freak on full display, as she shuddered and jiggled her shameful ecstasy in the clutch of these three hulking guys, her groin thrusting into Mike’s happily accepting face.“You’re next, baby,” Randal whispered quietly into Jenna’s ear. She had almost forgotten he was there, but now he was right next to her, wet-gear stripped off, right hand palming his extended cock as the porn-shoot unfolded.“Shut up, you prick, I’m filming,” she hissed in annoyance, and tried to. Our thin T-shirts were the only thing between us, and I could imagine her nakedness against mine, so much so that I could almost feel it. Something about that thought stirred something inside me. She left my room without either one of us speaking a word, but somehow, I felt better, as I’m sure she did as well. We could just forget the whole thing ever happened, and maybe we could get away with that. That night, I was in bed, watching television in my own room. I wasn’t really paying any.
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