She felt the fire in her pussy starting to grow and she was getting damp. But this wasn't about turning her on and, as Olivia was really getting into...the baby oil rubdown, he stopped, much to her dismay. "Okay that should keep your ass intact. Plus the oil will add a nice long, slow burn as the hairbrush lights you up," he said. Olivia had butterflies in her stomach and she was trembling as he spoke. She'd asked for this and she needed it, but the anticipation was killing her! She knew it. Jal began to feel her tits and pinch her nipples. He said "Natural tits. That is good. And they are huge and will look good in a sex scene." He then spread her legs and spread her pussy lips. His fingers found her clit and rolled it between two fingers. He remarked "Nice big clit and puffy pussy lips. Now lets see how tight that cunt is." As he slid a finger into her hole. Then he slid another till he had four fingers in her. He told her "Grab my fingers with those cunt muscles tight as you. Her cries, groans and begging merge into a stream of incomprehensible babble as I pound her tight little asshole. Wanting to punish her, punish her for being a whore, for fucking my husband, for ruining my marriage, for everything.With one final thrust, my own orgasm consumes me, wave after wave of lust and hate crashing down around me. I slam the girl-cock as deep as I can inside her and hold it there as I convulse on the other end, my hands gripping her hips.Finally, I lean forward, resting. Earlier I have told that I lived in number 11, but as you shall see I couldn't very well write the story about number 9 without involving myself, and to tell you the truth, I'm not too proud of my part in that story.In number 9 lived the younger of our two vicars with his wife. He was a tall, skinny and somber man, and from official records I knew him to be 46 years old. His wife was 8 years younger, and to the eye she was the typical vicar's wife, a demure, slight woman, always dressed in the.