She could barely cry, her face being repeatedly slapped by two or three thresher cocks.He never backed himself out of her, just slowly pushed further ...nto her, ignoring the little control she had left over her tightening muscles. He was about two thirds of the way in when her body would give no more and he began fucking her ass slow and steady. Trying to push more and more with not much more going inside her. He withdrew almost fully from her now widened hole, and poured more oil down onto his. "Oh god," she moaned.I smirked; I could feel her lose her composure. I broke away from her for a moment, took my hand from her knee, and wet my fingers in my mouth. She looked down at me, wondering why I had stopped. I didn't hesitate.I slipped two fingers inside of her and curled them up slightly. Again, she shivered and arched her back, quietly moaning. I didn't give her the chance to settle before my mouth returned, still moving my fingers. This time, I could feel her trying to close her. After the 12th stroke, Sandy started to get up.“Not so fast”, said Dan. “You still have 27 real strokes to go from Monday.”Sandy gasped. These strokes hurt worse than she remembered. What if her husband saw the marks, how would she explain them. Dan tried to aim a few strokes of the belt to land deep between her thighs, one landed perfectly with the end of the belt snapping squarely on Sandy’s cunt. She let out a small scream and stood up.“Since you didn’t count that one, we will have to do it. It is her innocence no lessThan her lovelinessThat makes meHard with desire,With the need to becomeOne with her,Inside her.2In profile, in the limelight,She stands against a blue, mottled background,Wearing a blue jacket with a satin collarSlid down over her biceps to hangFrom her forearms, down her arched back,Head back, face horizontal, swirling hair,Her right breast a slope to rotundity,Nipple pointing straight ahead,The belly a firm slope that glides downTo the firm, alabaster thigh.The eye.