Both Elena and Rizalina were driving their dildos harder and harder into Enri, gasping out with the effort of fucking my future wife. Almost the whole...length of Elena's strap-on was now penetrating Enri arse. "You love this kind of fucking, don't you, Enri," Elena gasped. "You can't get enough cock, can you. You'll do everything we tell you now. Any time we want to fuck you, or get you fucked, anything we want, you belong to us now."Enri had given up. She lay there with Rizalina driving her. A bed without curtains, four arm-chairs, and a couch, covered with yellow Utrecht velvet, composed, with a prie-Dieu, all its furniture. Lord Wilmore resided in Rue Fontaine-Saint-George. He was one of those English tourists who consume a large fortune in travelling. He hired the apartment in which he lived furnished, passed only a few hours in the day there, and rarely slept there. One of his peculiarities was never to speak a word of French, which he however wrote with great facility."The day. More

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