There is no tongue, just the torture of his hot breath, his soft lips teasing me. I try to buck my hips toward him, needing more, but he holds me down...fast with his hands. My restraints keep me from moving more than an inch or two. “Please, Patrick, fuck me. Lick me. Anything! I need…” I stop, realizing demanding anything of him was not a good idea as he moves away from me, off of the bed. He leaves the room abruptly. I hold back my panic and take a deep breath. I arch my hips into thin air, my. He lifted his kilt to wrap his hand around his cock, stroked his hardness as he watched the tableau before him unfold. She cupped her small breasts in her hands, squeezed and played with them, her head arching back in rapture. A hand snaked down her body to cover her sex, to stroke the wee bud that brought women pleasure. Donal’ stroked harder as he watched the Lady kneel on the floor and spread her legs to rub the bud there. She held her small breast tightly as she inserted her middle finger. More

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