hips began quivering, and she moaned through her gag.
“O-o-o-o,” Treise cooed, “It looks like somebody’s p***y is itching for love. Don’t you wish your tongue was long and free of that gag?” Treise stroked her fingertips up and down Bridget’s pouting p***y lips. She rubbed her fingers together, savoring the slippery juice oozing from Bridget’s p***y. Bridget struggled, her head quivering with carnal need.
“Don’t get so eager, you naughty child!” Treise said. “Tonight is my night with Sir Richard,” She reached out and pinched Bridget’s p***y lips, digging in with her fingernails. “No more begging for his tongue.”
Bridget struggled, her vulva wrenching from pain to pleasure and back again. She groaned and gasped as the twisting of her hips resumed.
Treise lay down on her back with her he
