My Lulu had a chicken, my Lulu had a duck. She took them to the bedroom and taught them how to…

I take my cue from her words and take one of those stiff little nipples between my fingers and pinch. My efforts are rewarded by a low moan around my cock that sends delicious electricity up my spine. “You like it rough, do you?”

Her reply is to look up at me and raise one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, and to grip my ass cheeks in her hands and pull me into a facefuck.

You don’t have to hit me with a brick. I tangle my hand in her hair and start taking control. I’m still being gentle by my standards, but I begin to thrust into her warm wet accommodating facehole. You can get used to anything if you do it enough, and she settles in very shortly as I set my rhythm, dropping her **** grip on my glutes, her hands descending to her obviously dripping cunt, pulling aside the narrow material of her thong for access

Had I not spent the last three days destroying all of her sister’s holes I would have already unloaded on her. Even so, I’m not made of stone so I know it’s just a matter of time before exactly that happens. And I have plans for this load that don’t include her throat as an active participant.

I pull her roughly back off me, again with an audible pop, causing her to gaze up at me in confusion and something that looks like sadness, only emphasized by her streaked mascara and running eyeliner. “W-why?”

“I don’t want just your mouth, Melanie. And this isn’t getting you off.” Shifting my grip from her hair to the back of her neck, I lift her like a kitten from the massage table. It’s easy to forget that she’s so small compared to me. She scrambles to get her footing, collapsing against my broad chest. She grips my arms for support as I reach down and roughly plunge two fingers into her hot wet gash, eliciting a squeak of excitement from her.

Instinct takes over and Melanie just tries to hang on for dear life, sinking her nails into my biceps while I pump my fingers into her over and over. The effect is twofold, first I’m teasing her relentlessly knowing that she’s been programmed to only find release after her partner, second I’m stretching out that tight slit for the main event. I watch her face as I fingerfuck her, noting as her jaw goes slack and her eyes start to roll wildly in her head, overstimulation and my suggestion of her difficulty thinking when she’s worked up basically destroying at least temporarily all higher reasoning. She’s little more than a bitch in heat now.

When I feel she’s marinated enough in her own endorphins, I spin her around and press her to the table roughly, getting a couple long bloody furrows from her claws for my efforts. Clamping a hand around that pale white throat, I direct my cock so that it slides over her engorged labia, coming away slick with the remnants of the massage oil and her own lubrication. I feel her arch and press back against me, as I lean over her back to whisper in her ear. “I’m going to fuck you into the table now. But only if you ask me to nicely.”

For emphasis I slide my length along her cunt lips again, feeling the tickle of her short damp landing strip. Melanie tries to process my words. Fuck. Ask. “Please fuck me. I need you to fuck me. My God I need it so bad!” Her voice is a husky whisper, filled with real need.

I’m feeling a bit sadistic right now, so I press the old purple helmet up against her slit, pushing in just the tip. She quivers but her moan of pleasure turns to one of disappointment as I pull back after only a second. I push forward again, going just a little deeper, and begin thrusting but not penetrating any further. She starts to get into it, trying to press that flat ass into me, but I use my weight and hands to keep her immobile. Just as she starts getting used to it, I plunge in a little deeper.

I keep this up for an excruciatingly long time, thrusting until she gets comfortable with the rhythm, then going even farther, my hand around her throat never loosening. Her cunt is volcanic and feels fantastic, and it’s only through sheer will and long practice that I don’t just start pounding into her. My strokes have been slow and measured, and stay that way until, after what seems to be an eternity, I finally bottom out in her eliciting a cry of passion.

I continue with my slow thrusts, almost imperceptibly building speed and ****, until finally I let loose and just let myself get up to ramming speed. The massage table rattles with each push, and every time I slam home Melanie let’s out a low moan. I can’t take anymore.

I pull out all the way and drag her to her knees in front of me, then let loose, spraying her face and hair. As the first droplet hits her pale skin, she finally hits her own orgasm, crying out, her body twitching like an epileptic in a grand mal. When it finally runs it’s course, she slumps back against the massage table and stares dumbly up at me, dazed and glazed.

I smile inwardly at my handiwork. “So… same time in two weeks?”