Gradually, as I began to relax, he inserted his finger into my ass, knuckle deep, and I have to admit it felt good. Master could tell I was enjoying m...self.“Does that feel good slave?” He hissed as I let out a little groan of pleasure, “I think I’ve got myself a slutty little slave who likes her ass fucked”He started to then work two fingers into my tight hole, and after some initial resistance I was once again being driven wild by the feeling of Master’s fingers filling and stretching me. Just. Big deal? Of course not, but where most guys wore a little golden hoop or stud, he had one that was a bunch of tiny gold leaves that shivered and twinkled, or a hoop that was at least two inches across. He also wore cologne. Not some man cologne, but something that smelled flowery, like gardenia or lilac. If he had been a normal boy he would have been really good-looking. The other thing was, he was a nice kid. What a shame, I always thought.One day I had come home from a long time at sea,. He heard a few of the guys call out “mom” here and there while addressing them. He saw an older brunette handing out sandwiches, in a motherly fashion, to younger guys. They all had dark hair; he presumed they were her nephews. He didn’t know for sure, but he watched them all afternoon.He watched where they headed when they left the beach. Ronnie took note of the neighborhood, deciding to drive around inside it that night. -5-“Does this hurt?” Cindy asked, sitting on top of Collin, rubbing. I almost shot a load in my pants when his fingers first brushed against her panties. He was understandably cautious with this woman he didn't know, so rather than trying to go for the prize right away, he took his time to again gauge her reaction. She was wearing a pair of sheer white, barely there thong panties, that contrasted nicely with his fingers as they lightly brushed up and down her slit. The music that had been playing came to an end just as Ann closed eyes, and spread her knees wider.