It’s been a long time since she’d been awakened for an early morning romp. He rises swiftly yet silently and moves over to the nightstand, flickin... the lamp light on and looking around the desk drawer for his camcorder. He’d love to preserve this for another time when she’s away and he’s in need for her. He sets the recorder on the table and positions it so the bed is clearly visible then leans slowly over her and moves a wisp of hair from her forehead. He lowers his lips down to hers, barely. She felt the cold, sharp flit touch her neck. Just a slash, not a big hard one, a soft, gentle tear, the slit ached. Warm blood ran down her throat and covered her breasts. Thick spurts of her life spattered over the grass of late spring below her, scarring the green with deep dark crimson. The pain tore at her body as his hips struck her legs and ass, the sickening pecker tore her insides, and her blood flowed from her. She tried to scream, but no sound came from her gaping mouth. She felt. Just how to cleanse the residue of her orgasmic flood from her body, her quim, her thighs and her pudenda, with my lips and tongue. And just how soon and how fast, after her initial recovery, to begin the whole process again to bring her to a second and then a third climax. But all the time, in my present state of curtailment, I was unable to achieve the condition of arousal my body craved. And throughout, somehow, it never occurred to me to remove my night dress and dispel the femininity. After about five minutes of her brutal assault on my ass I felt a familiar feeling I was about to cum I couldn't believe this was gonna make me cum. Once I was almost there I started groaning and she stopped and yanked the dildo out of my ass. “ I told you your not cuming until I say so” she scolded as she crawled up to straddle my face again. “Make me cum with your tongue sex puppet” she screamed as she slammed her pussy down on my face. I slid my tongue out and into her dripping wet pussy.