I could see her hand rhythmically flexing and releasing, buried in his cotton briefs. My eyes drifted to his firm cock, throbbing and slick with saliv... that had trickled, in reflective rivulets, down over Allison’s knuckles. It slicked his balls and coated her busy palm, which, as a result, made sticky, sloppy, slapping sounds as her finger pumped in and out of him. I could tell that the slippery trail stretched further still—out of sight—and my teeth ground together as I pictured it. I could. .what do you mean?" not screamed, notshouted, almost whispered but leaden with emotion. "What the hell doyou mean John ?" Pleading, desperate, frustrated but strangely absentof any hint of anger or surprise. " I can't, I can't give you what youwant I'm.......I'm.....God Wendy, I just can't". "You can't what John?say it, tell me, tell me what you can't do to me, what you can't giveme, I want to hear you say it, I want to...I need to hear the words"." Please Wendy please please don't make me say. More

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