”Brad frowned and looked down at the floor.“Thanks for the pity fuck,” he muttered sarcastically and shook his head.Zoe grinned and moved to sit...on the arm of his chair.“Don’t be like that!” she said, “It wasn’t pity! Well, maybe at first it was. I saw how hard you were and how embarrassed you were. But after we got started, it wasn’t pity. There was definitely no pity after I came for the third time!”Brad sighed and grimaced. He flushed with embarrassment once more and wished he could crawl. I grabbed her wrists and pulled them away from her pussy. “Please master I’m so close, just let me finish!” she screamed. I slapped her hands “someone has been very naughty. Did I tell you, you could fuck yourself?” she was so desperate she was trying to hump the floor to help her get off. She looked up at me with the biggest eyes I have ever seen “Please master” she whimpered. “Someone needs to be taught a lesson” I said putting her hands above her head and placing the tip of my cock at her. Monsignor Malone was from Northern Ireland and had been a soldier in the war between the Catholics and the Protestants that was termed “The Troubles” in a mollifying way of identifying a problem of immense proportion.Sister Angela had played chess with Monsignor Malone on more than one occasion in the large recreation room for the guests and found him to be a brilliant conversationalist that never reverted to sexual innuendo in any form and was most circumspect with respect to the differences. Woh ekdum gehri nind mein hai. Tu kar awaz, teri aahe mast hai ladki jaisi” (She can’t hear you, she’s fast asleep. You can moan, I like that you moan like a girl). So I continued riding him while moaning like a slut in heat.After riding him for a couple of minutes, he stopped me and asked me to lie down on my back. He positioned himself between my legs and parted and held my legs with both his hands. He moved and inserted his cock back in my asspussy and started fucking me hard.I could feel.
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