She could hear and feel his breath on her face. She knew he was looking down on her cower with a stern gaze. Despite herself, she felt her pussy get w...tter and further soak his fingers as they continued to push inside of her. He was being rough with his slave. His grip was firmly around her neck and his fingers dug into her sweet, pink velvet. "Forgive me, Master..." She gasped, feeling a mix of guilty pleasure and sweet discomfort. Then she felt It against her lips. Hot and fleshy and. Like her radiant skin her dress was as smooth as a wet chamois. Their lips met, teeth parted, and their tongues also danced to the music. Held tight in his arms was the girl he would marry after graduation, or so he dreamed. When his hand would drift to her tight well-rounded ass, she would lift his hand, staring deep into his eyes, with a meaning of, “do not even think about it!” Witashnah’s deerskin dress only went a few more inches below her firm ass, she knew every boy there (and some. More

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