Mit traenen in den Augen strecke ich mich wieder, meine Knie zittern. Ich schaue die Meister mit verschleierten Augen an.Meine Scheide ist ein Inferno... unterschiedlicher grausamer Schmerzen ? und die Kerze bleibt sehr zur Begeisterung der umstehenden Meister, wie angegossen in meiner Scham stecken. Waehrend sie sich anstubsen und schmunzelnd zusehen fuehrt mich einer zum in der Naehe stehenden Billardtisch. Ich laufe mit gespreizten Beinen und staksigem Schritt zum Billardtisch. Die Maenner. She bit back a scream as a roughened fingertip touched her again, the circular motion so light as to hardly register. Her trembling increased, her desire, her barely controllable need to tilt and force her hips against him, to make him enter her. She didn’t care if she felt a cock, tongue or a finger. Hell at this point, felt a changed direction of massage, moving fingertip slowly up and down over the small hooded organ. Each stroke bringing closer to her pussy. Closer but not nearly close. Soon it occurred to me that they were fishing. They wanted me, yes. But more than they wanted me, they wanted the technical excellence my friends and I had. They wanted bigger and more shocking effects. They wanted to top everything that had been done before. My problem was that I had learned to value quality over quantity. Content over hypocrisy. Love over matter. Well, maybe the last one. It was not suitable, here.I made sure that I looked interested, and they gave me permission to hang. ‘Can I really slap them?’ he asks. ‘You paid for the privilege.’ At first, Harry’s slaps are gentle, but as you continue to smile and offer yourself, he begins to hit moderately hard, making your jugs jiggle. ‘Wow, I never did this before. It’s fun!’ Harry says. ‘Go ahead and hit as hard as you want. I can take it.’ Harry slaps harder. You’re definitely getting aroused by your power over him and by the delightful sting in your titties. Too soon for you, though, he stops slapping and leans.