”Ophelia swung one leg over me like she was getting onto a horse.“Mistress Flavia,” Ophelia said. “Please work over the prisoner’s cock and ...alls while I shove my pussy into his face. Make sure he’ s in plenty of pain while he licks me. Slap his cock back and forth. If you like, punch his balls with your fist.”Ophelia sat on my face and pushed her labia right into my mouth. I could feel her smooth thighs cradling my head, and when I looked up, I could see her splendid breasts and the red. I'm sure she wants me as much as I want and need her.Scarlet: It feels like I'm being bent over that table and whipped for ages. Each strike is a lifetime of pain and pleasure. It is enough to make my whole body begin to tremble on its own. All my emotions are all coursing through me hard and quickly. I'm near tears because of it.“Stop, stop. Yellow, please yellow,” I sob out. I fight back the tears, not wanting to make a spectacle of myself.Instantly Franklin stops, lifting me up so I can. The book has taken me three decades to write, mostly because I didn’t start actually putting pen to paper, so to speak, until I had all my background ducks in a row. Putting ducks in a row is like herding cats; patience becomes the primary virtue. This book is Tom Woolfolk’s fault. Well, actually, Tom’s and Sheila’s jointly. We three commuted to work together for a few years in the early eighties, and during those long and boring rides, more than once talked about the characters and some of the. His heart was pounding, his thick shaft pulsing. He inhaled her scent, so close he could feel the heat of her flesh. She touched a swollen breast against his lips, the nipple teasing him – he lapped at it hungrily, and she leaned in closer, encouraging him to suck. She placed knees either side of his muscular thighs, and slowly began to lower herself until the head of his throbbing cock met the tight opening of her plush, wet pussy. ‘Trust me,’ she cooed, and pressed down – slowly, deliberately.