Those hands were strong, kneading my shoulders, then my neck and down my back, warming me. I felt strangely groggy, asking whose hands were on my back...��I noticed my arms were stretched above my head, firmly bound to the bedposts. Pinned down on my stomach, I could not even turn my head.I tried to sit up, but a heavy hand on the small of my back kept me down. The deep voice whispered in my ear I should enjoy the moment, because it was only the beginning…I felt hazy and I moaned again, asking. It went on for a few minutes until he told me "ok, now I gotta fuck you good. Bend over the dinning table" I stood up and bent over the table, he got behind me, lifted my right leg so that my knee was on the table and the access to my ass was easier, got down and started liking my butt. after a few licks he told me "moan, I want to feel like I'm fucking a whore, a girl" I started moaning like a bitch. He stood up and jammed his cock hard in, I let go a big moan mixed with a little scream and he. There are six of them, and they are all nicely dressed, and all wearing the kind of masks that only cover the upper part of one’s face. The women’s masks are feathered, the men’s quite plain and white. You can clearly see bulges in the men’s suit pants, and the women seem happy to be rubbing them slowly, with delicate silk-gloved hands. You don’t recognize any of them, but they seem to be good looking people, all in their thirties to forties. All here to watch you, and whatever I have planned. ”“It seems that you’ve learned over the years,” she whispered with a laugh. “Show me if practice makes perfect.”“What’s going on?” That voice. It was Papa Bear. “Is everything ok? I heard you laugh.”The lights came on. “Fuck,” she thought. “He’s going to see…”In the bright light in her bedroom, all she saw was Papa Bear standing at the light switch. She was alone in her bed, naked, the sheets splayed across her body to cover her, and her hands sweating. Or they were just wet, and maybe it.
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