Was it the fact that the servant was Hispanic? Lynn found that hard to believe. When she was with Peter, she had copulated with a Cuban in the dressin... room of a crowded clothing store and, while enjoyable, there was no particular attraction, none of the mysterious excitement she felt now as she remembered the soft lips which had pursed themselves for her and the tongue which had licked them so suggestively. Was it the fact that the woman was mute? Did the fact that they would never exchange. My hips repeatedly slap against her peachy arse. The rutting sounds echo off the bathroom walls. A lascivious counterpoint to her mistress’s smoking prattle.“You need Mistress’s permission to touch your clit?” I ask, relentlessly impaling her squelching folds with my thick girlcock. Using her to shape my orgasm.She nods, agreeing. But her aroma of needy arousal is now tinged with the erotic miasma of wanton duplicity.“A good girl should spank her clit for me.”No hesitation, her fingers slap her. More

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