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"I’ve had a call from Ellen," Tricia said, "She’s hoping to be home around lunchtime and has asked if you can hang on so that she can meet up with...you again." "Sure," I replied, "I’m looking forward to seeing her too." After breakfast we both showered and although she’d dressed in a pair of denim micro shorts and a pale orange top, I stayed in my towelling robe whilst we discussed the photographs. Tricia is not a professional photographer and I’ve never really done any modelling so this was new. I went to my bag and pulled out a condom, a ring, some lube, and the vibrator. He lay down on the bed and told me what he wanted to happen. I wasn’t surprised; it was the same thing he always wanted. I climbed onto the bed and take his cock into my mouth. At eleven inches, I can’t take the whole thing, but I used my hand to help stimulate it. I turned on the vibrator and massaged his balls with it. His legs tensed up and he can’t stop grunting and moaning. I bobbed my head as fast as I could. Hazel. Others. I couldn't move. I didn't know if I wanted to. The goons held me down anyway, one holding my legs, the other keeping my arms behind my back.A half hour later a large black limousine I recognized pulled up to the curb near me. Rising from the back seat was the old rat face man. The automatic hung impotently in his hand. The little man stood over me. One of the goons pulled my head back by the hair so I was looking up at him."You don't want to get me out of bed again, understand?". A voice so steeped in magical chant and ecstatic, holy praise that God Himself would have seduced her just to listen as she reached her climax. In lilting jazzy riffs of moans and little pattering breaths; in low, agonized releases, in snarling, animal howls she was a singer. Awaiting a man to sing to. Thinking of the man she awaited, often in the nights, her fingers would wind their way along her skin, over the slopes of her hips, to the center of her thighs; wet lips there that clasped at her.
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