After it was over, I asked him to stick his still pulsating manhood between my boobs, which were aching, for love. There was no way he could say no. P...rt and proud, with firm muscles, my boobs had already caught his eyes. I pressed the firm flesh of globes together, wrapping them around his cock. May be my lover found it too much. He started talking real dirty, saying things like Do you know that you drive me wild you wicked rundee? I was so turned on by what he was saying; I could never. One day, he just stopped. I didn't know why at the time. He wouldn't even look at me. He'd pass by my cage a few times a day, but not even acknowledge me. Why won't he talk to me? Why can't I be called a good girl anymore? One day, I reached out to grab his leg longingly, and he smiled. "Do you want to be a good girl?" he asked. And that was the end of the woman I was. He was asking if I wanted to be raped for his pleasure, so he can watch and see my humiliation. He was asking if I. More

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