I was gently rubbing her clit with one hand while massaging her boobs with the other. I stroked the inside of her pussy slowly, running my tongue all ...round her vaginal wall. I did it in short slow strokes, one by one around her pussy wall. She had started writhing on the bed. I slowly took my hands off her body and moved my mouth up and away – Neetu immediately thrust her hips up and her pussy into my face. She hissed, “Please, don’t stop”. I smiled. I grabbed her ass from below and raised her. The woman hecontinued upwards to see.From there, the progression of the flights followed in the same fashion.One to change his body, one to clothe it properly. Muscled legs becominggraceful pedestals, no longer covered in metal boots and greaves, but insatin slippers and silken hose. Solid torso taking on the luscious curvesof a courtesan, wilting under the weight of a chain coat until it changedinto a long, figure hugging dress of a midnight blue velvet, cinched atthe waist by a filigreed. She was, she said, wrinkling her forehead, dead inside, numb, insensitive."I can still feel them poking me, now I mean, today," she said, "but then I remember things tearing apart; I become numb and can only pretend. I'm not good at that. There is no pleasure in the act, none, nunca, not for me."I kissed her fingers and held her hand while she told me that she had seen several doctors but that none knew anything about such a problem, two would not even discuss it with her and suggested that her. We met this black guy named Mark in a nightclub one evening while having a few drinks. Mark was an impeccably dressed and very handsome, light skinned black man. He was over six feet tall and was thin but muscular. He was very well spoken and traveled with a fast crowd made up of several well to do white people. We learned through conversation the night we met him that he had fucked several of the white girlfriends and wives in this circle of people. A number of the white guys wanted to.