Before that, in her bedroom, she had been so soft, so perfect. Her body was supple and smooth – her eyes so green, like emeralds staring back at him... Even as he had penetrated her gaze had penetrated him. He stopped as a glob of precum spilled down his shaft, coating his fingers in a cold sticky liquid. Maybe he could wake her now – enjoy her supple skin and warm pussy now. His cock burned with desire – it would be easier to just finish himself off. He rolled back out of bed and wiped his cock. Fingerdoo let out a gasp as their lips parted. Goodhead undid Fingerdoo’s blouse, pushing it open, moving her hands around her back. She unhooked Fingerdoo’s bra. Goodhead let out a little gasp of her own as Fingerdoo’s small breasts fell free as she dropped the bra onto her desk. Goodhead kissed Fingerdoo down her neck to her breasts. Wilma had no words. Her mouth suddenly dry. Breathing, shallow, heated gasps. She looked into Goodhead’s beautiful eyes and simply nodded her head. Goodhead took. Kneeling without the use of her hands was a slow and clumsy task and she felt the crop, expertly wielded, make her nipples explode to hurry her up. The sensuous, wanton libertine in her had made peace some time ago with the devoted, loving, sex-slave wife. This was an area where she ruled. Although the restraints and her submissive position may have created a somewhat different feeling, there was no mistaking the way this would play out…the way it always did since their visit to Boca seven. He returned it to the box not ready or willing to wear it yet, allowing it to remain as the symbol of resistance he thought of it as being. Still wearing only his towel and mumbling, ‘resistance is futile’ he opened his door to get the newspaper. The woman from across the hall was unlocking her door. She looked over her shoulder, seeing how he was dressed. She watched him pick up the Sunday newspaper when he greeted her. Her eyes went to the area between his legs when she smiled approvingly. He.