" Oh fuck yeah, cover me in cum."One of her hands snaked between her thighs and she started to frig herself. I slapped her face with my cock."No touch...ng yourself," I said, in a stern voice.I resumed rubbing my slimy cock over the smooth clear skin of her face. Or more like I used her face to rub my cock, by holding her by her pony tail and using it to move her head around my stiff seeping phallus. I wiped it with the sweat on her brow and upper lip, mixing in the oozing precum from the tip. I felt the cool moss under me. My dick was virtually perpendicular, throbbing intensely. I waited with excitement to see what she would do. "Now Mr Wilkinson, close your eyes and don't open them until I tell you. This won't hurt and will be over soon enough," she said, sounding strict.I was amazed at how she played the role. Anyway, I closed my eyes as she instructed. In a moment I sensed her straddling me, her legs were tight up against my sides, then a firm hand grasped my dick and a warm. There was a support for Miss Deacon’s chin, and I could now see that the shape of the table was cleverly designed so that woman’s breasts would hang free and could be reached from underneath. Miss Foster ran the riding crop down Miss Deacon’s backbone, snagging the bra strap and unclipping it, and then moving over her buttocks and down the inside of her right leg. The older woman looked appraisingly at her bound lover, and then selected what seemed to my young eyes an enormous strap-on from. Sometimes I twist my head, use my teeth gently, or the rough part at the back of my tongue, and You think this is it, I'm going to bring You to orgasm. But of course I don't. Worshipping isn't about an orgasm for me, or at least not for a long while, it's about doing every pleasurable thing I can think of to Your cock and then some more. Till it feels like it belongs to me, that it and I understand each other, getting to the point where every twitch, every pulse has meaning to me and guides me..