"Lets tenderise those lovely arse cheeks shall we." I lost count of the times he whipped me. "Sniff on this fuck boy" and he held a bottle of ,what I ...ater learnt was poppers, under my nose. "Please sir , I don't do d**gs" I cried " "You fucking do what ever I tell you fuck boy" and he held my hands behind my back with one hand while pushing the bottle under my nose "SNIFF you little fucker!" I inhaled and the substance seemed to burn my nose. Then I felt a high slowly overtake me and I felt. Their tongues slid against each other, and their soft lips pressed tightly together, allowing little room for breathing. When she reluctantly broke away to gasp for air, he slid his lips down, leaving a hot trail of kisses down her neck. His hands moved down to pull her hips towards his hardening bulge, his leg resting between hers. She felt him suck on her neck and gave her a little bite, and she moaned softly. Oh, god. Am I hallucinating? Before she even knew what she was doing, her hips. My body wanted him, ached for his fingers inside it. When he palmed my cheek, I groaned to his touch. He didn’t speak, merely leaned across the center console and kissed me—tenderly at first, but quickly growing in urgency. I bit his lips, and he chuckled again. He dropped his hand and grasped the hem of my skirt, tugging it until it bunched in my lap. His agile fingers bypassed my stockings and went straight for my pussy, like its heat called to them. I spread my legs as far as the steering. ?Well, let's just check on that,? John said, having no problem with sentence completion himself. And almost before I could even register what was happening, his hand was under my tiny black skirt, which I had of course worn just for him, and then inside my brand-new, silk, and also of course worn just for him, panties. He let his hand just rest there for an agonizingly long moment before suddenly sliding one of his long fingers inside me. ?Oh fuck! John! Fuck!? I cried, thrashing against the.