I feel the vib against my clit. I spread my legs wider. Master J calls me a slut, a wet slut, and then shoves that vib in my pussy so hard I jump and...yell “ooww!” Next I know that belt is smacking my ass over and over again. Ohh mann.. moan oowooww panting panting.. when will He stop?..ohh mann oow oww.. Sir please no more ohh Sir oohh.. moannn oowowow…when I think I can’t take anymore Master J stops. I’m moaning and wiggling trying my best to get my breathing to calm. My knuckles are. Itry to look down at the cleavage but Andrea is not facing me.The restaurant waiter arrive and take a sit close by and ask for the same wine that Andrea is having so the barmen comment on it and they all start talking about it.I am getting impatient and nervous because the new arrival has moved right next to my wife and continuously looks in her now quite revealing shirt.She gets shouted another drink as the lights dim and I can see her stockings trough the skirt against the enlighten support. As she prepared to slap me again, I ground my bottom against her mound, parting the crack of her pussy with my ass. She spanked me again and again, gently humping her clit against my pantihosed bum. I watched in the mirror as her titties bounced with the force of each slap. When tears began to stream down my face, Ingrid took mercy on her naughty stewardess. Pulling my nylons down to my knees, she gently kissed my bare, tortured bottom. "That's a good girl," she purred. "Let Ingrid kiss it all. Damn was I a lucky man, I thought. Monica took a seat at the back corner of the open lounge. It had about a dozen red leather sofas pointing in all directions, with a few side tables and concrete planters mixed in. Half of the sofas were occupied with middle-aged men working on their laptops or smartphones. I think I saw only one other woman, dressed in business attire and glasses, having what looked like a serious conversation on her expensive-looking phone. Monica in her casual jeans and.