Lamar….”“Or…..”“Uh….Sir?” I questioned.“Your not sure?” He mocked.“Please Mr. Lamar Don’t”“Please….. the bitch says. Yes... please Miss Martin. Please stop forcing me to rape and humiliate you….yes please stop getting your filthy pussy so wet that I can smell your cunt when it leaks all over my pants” he snarled. He pulled away revealing a wet spot where my twat had been pressed against his dark black pants. He smirked. He grabbed onto a part of my pantyhose, gripping the material in his closed. . , okay, Montez, I'll wait a little longer... until you hang yourself. Meantime, on your feet, cunts... it's time for the show to start..."Nervously, Carol Heath paced back and forth across the living room of their apartment, occasionally glancing at her watch, then walking to a mirror to primp at her hair or fidget with the black, cocktail mini garment she had chosen to wear. She felt quite naked actually, never having worn the low-cut dress without a bra before, but it seemed in keeping,. “That makes thirty six strokes Jeff. You had really better do as you are told Jeff” she said extremely shortly. “Grab the chair Jeff” his wife ordered again. Jeff stepped forward sharpish and bent over, grabbing the chair, trying to ignore everyone else in the room. “Stick your bottom out further Jeff so I can get the whole thing to aim at, and spread your legs apart.” Jeff stuck his bottom out further and parted his legs, aware his penis and balls will be seen from the rear. He closed. I invite her in, and ogled her little tennis outfit as she strolled in. Man is this woman hot I thought. Making a bit of small talk, I ask if they were heading out for tennis, she replied no, this is what I wear as a ruse to get away from that lump I'm married to was her short sweet reply. I ask if she wanted something to drink, coffee or tea, she just shrugged her shoulders and said whatever is handy. I turned to get the tea pitcher from the fridge and heard a kerplunk behind me, I thought she.