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(The Massage, continued...)

You don’t have to reply — the lustful leer on your face says it all.

“Uh oh…” says Sandra nervously, starting to back away.

You lunge at Sandra and she squeals and tries to escape. You grab at her dress and it tears off, leaving her wearing nothing but white lace panties and high heels.

She manages to get almost to the door before you’re on top of her. She’s face down on the floor with your cock digging into her bottom through her panties. You yank them down, exposing a glorious pair of ass cheeks that buck and wriggle against your probing dick. You then flip her over on to her back, force her legs apart and plunge your enormous cock into her pussy while she beats you with her fists.

“Get off me!” she cries, so you cover her mouth with one hand and grope her tits with the other while you pound your dick into her. With each powerful thrust, she lets out a muffled “Mmmfffff”. You can’t quite make out what she’s saying. It could be “I feel like an ice-cream” or possibly “you’re fucking dead you evil bastard.”

You start to think that this was not a very smart course of action. It could be life-changingly bad, in fact. Your only plan now is to fuck her until she starts to enjoy it, then maybe she’ll be grateful afterwards.

Thirty seconds later you pump her full of cum and she still doesn’t look appreciative. So much for the plan. Maybe some flowers would do the trick?

The End

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