Concerned at what I would look like when he was done with me, I let out a long, low groan of frustration at both Dave's disregard for my need to return to my husband and the series of events that had brought me there; squatting down in a slinky red cocktail dress while a drunken man I wasn't married to pounded his fat dick in and out of my mouth. On hearing me, and feeling the vibrations of my mouth on his member, Dave mistook my groan for a moan of lust and hammered his cock home, holding it deep inside my throat where I felt it finally pulse and jump, dumping his sizable load straight down my throat. Dave was unloading wads of cum in my mouth which snorted out my nose and overflowed my lips; the rest of his copious amounts of cum sliding down into my hungry belly! Oh God.......MmAhYmm........feed me your cream........! He held himself there, grunting and groaning himself until his balls were empty, and I was desperate for air. Slowly, he pulled himself back out of my throat,. Again, Karen said in an almost dispassionate tone, ‘Touch yourself and I stop.’ I think I whimpered at her rebuke, but I couldn’t be sure. My mind was fully enveloped in such a state of sexual fog that nothing outside of her fingers was registering anymore. Karen continued her sadistic tease, and said with a giggle, ‘If you have to do something then fuck my fingers.’ What did she say, ‘fucking fingers?’ It made no sense. She misconstrued my noncompliance as unwillingness, and so stopped her finger manipulations. I think I whimpered again. Her lips were slightly turned up into her trademark ‘Mona Lisa’ smile, but the harsh tone in her voice belied any amusement, ‘I said fuck my fingers.’ ‘Oh, fuck my fingers’ I thought, ‘Jesus, why didn’t you say so in the first place you fucking bitch?’ I kept my thoughts to myself and happily complied with renewed shifting of my pelvis. I started slow. I don’t know why. I was just happy my body was still responding to what my mind was commanding,.
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