Chapter 50: Various Projects Below Stairs

Felicia (a.k.a. the Wench) knocked on the door to Armand's suite, "Master?"

"Enter!" Sharon called out.

Felicia entered and immediately knelt. "You called?"

"I did," Armand agreed. He was fast-forwarding through some video of Leticia giving Boris head. "I haven't quite decided what use I have for you as yet, but a continuation of Sharon's education is in order." He turned to face Felicia, "What did you think of the phone call to Bianca, Wench?"

"Master, if Mistress was trying to dissuade Bianca, she failed."

"And if she wasn't?"

"Umm, wild success?"

Armand chuckled. "What do YOU think of Bianca's little project?"

The Wench blinked. "I think she needs to get laid. And I think Pete is THE guy to do it!"

"Apparently, it's unanimous -- with the possible exception of Pete," Armand observed dryly. He turned to Sharon. "What was that last bit about?"

"Phillippe?" Sharon smiled. "I thought maybe I'd give Bianca a weapon."

"OH!" the Wench giggled.

Armand turned a quizzical glance on her. "Explain."

"Master, if Pete refuses, Bianca can just say something like, 'Okay, I'll have Phillippe do it... ', and Pete will have to cave..."

"Ah." Armand turned a burning gaze on Sharon. "Subtle."

"I kept Nora in line for a long time," Sharon replied. "I speak teen."

"I see," Armand observed. In fact, he saw quite a bit. "Let's get arranged. Sharon, you're on me, but arrange yourself to facilitate a view. Wench, service Sharon. You need not see the video. I think we're reached the present."

They had. In real time, down in the men's showers off the sunroom, Leticia was snuffling and sucking, trying to service Boris properly through the pain and urgency brought on by a good quart of oily water distending her lower abdomen. The cramps were awful, but worse was the fight her already sore sphincter was waging to hold back the tide...

"One more minute," Boris grunted. "Charles said not less than ten. I am to beat you if you fail to hold the water in, too! You might as well stop sucking -- you are terrible at it when distracted..."

"I'm so sorry!" Leticia wailed as her mouth came off this thick member. She was, too! God knew that she didn't want Boris telling Mr. Wilson that she was bad at ANYTHING, but the pain and the urgency...

"See if you can..." Lacking the word, Boris made a jacking motion. Leticia waded in, one-handed, sliding Boris's foreskin back and forth on his meaty shaft. "Lick the tip," Boris directed. "Da!" This was better! "Lips, only. Do not go deep!" The skinny little negress kept forgetting herself and letting her teeth get in the way. This way, there were no accidents...

Leticia applied herself in the new manner, jacking him and lipping his glans, whirling her tongue around the tip under his foreskin. It wasn't as gamey as yesterday, probably due to the cleaning it got then. Boris was flinching and wriggling, rumbling, "Daaa... Daaa..." Leticia figured she would be drinking cum soon, at this rate. Maybe that would spare her poor, cramping ass...

But Boris gathered himself and fended her off, yelling, "STOP! We let you empty, now!" Imperiously, he pointed to the door. "Other shower room. You will not stink up MINE!" Leticia made to struggle up, but he pushed her back down. "Crawl. Go!" A swat on the ass scared her into rapid, knee-scraping motion.

Boris followed her right through the door; the fact that it was marked 'Ladies' concerned him no more than the fact that the other was marked 'Gents'. Leticia crawled past the showers to the back where the three stalls were situated. "The big one," Boris ordered. He followed her in, waving for her to go ahead and seat herself. "Okay, go!" he ordered. "Suck some more. Try not to make BIG smell..."

More cramps, mixed with blessed relief as the water poured out of her abused sphincter, carrying fecal matter with it. It was rank, but Boris didn't leave; he stood there cradling her head while she again worked his erection. This time, when she wasn't reaching back to flush, she had a hand available to cradle his heavy balls, something he apparently enjoyed, by the grunts he emitted. Gratitude had her working hard, but Boris had no intention of losing a load in her mouth; no, he had his sights set on her ass, and if he could scrape together enough for a second pass, he'd batter her pussy again! The previous night's encounter had been the best Boris had had in ages, and he was determined to repeat the performance! In any case, one or two more repetitions and the little black slut would be addicted, anyway, and life would improve quite a bit around the dacha...

That thought process nearly undid him; he backed off, suddenly, roaring, "Nyet! Not here!" Leticia, thoroughly terrorized, let go. "Awful stink," he muttered, covering. "Who will clean you up?"

"I can use the bidet!" Leticia offered.

"Bidet?"

"That," Leticia amplified, pointing at a stall across the way. "It squirts water up..."

"Good," Boris rumbled. "What about rinse, inside?"

Leticia swallowed, grimacing. "I don't know..."

Armand surged up. "Wench! Get down there with a bulb syringe. I want to see you wandering around before they get settled! Tell them Charles sent you, having forgotten the thing. Go!"

"Master!" The Wench ran out, wiping Sharon's juices off her face. Sharon made no sound; the fact that she was inhibited by the situation had made Felicia's work more difficult, but she HAD been making ground. Now, Sharon wanted to conserve the effort...

Armand caught her hand shifting to her crotch. "Keep the hands where they were," he admonished. "Next time, maybe you'll appreciate it more, eh?" Palming the back of her head, he grunted, "Go a little deeper. Long-stroke it. Give me tonsils on one end and lips on the other." He returned his attention to the screen.

"How much longer?" Boris grumbled. He didn't want to lose his hard-on either way -- via inattention, or by ejaculation.

"I'm close, I think," Leticia replied. The cramps had backed off, and she was starting to feel emptied. Of course, her ass hurt -- it was unused to such treatment. Oh, similar had happened before, with Mr. Wilson -- and she hadn't done as well, frankly. She'd made an ungodly mess and had to clean it up... But that was just an episode, not a series.

Boris grimaced, stepped forward, and made jacking motions. "Easy. You do not drink from Boris tonight. You just keep him... entertained." Hard was the wrong word to use here -- it might give the little slut the wrong idea.

"Yes, Sir." Leticia put her hands back to work. "Do you want me to lick?"

Boris thought about it, nodded. "Da. Remember!" He shook a warning finger.

Leticia nodded and went back to work. In a minute or two, she decided that her stay on the toilet had reached the point of diminishing returns, so she looked up at Boris, "I should move over there."

"Good!" he grunted, shambling back. He was MORE than ready to move on...

Leticia wiped carefully and got up, sidling around toward the bidet. She felt... messy. "You don't want to see, I think." Boris waved a hand in agreement. Leticia circled around and busied herself trying to set the water temperature on the bidet. Boris watched, shaking his head. Just as she settled over the bowl, a soft voice began calling, "Bo-ris! Oh, Bo- ris!"

"Huh?" Boris shambled to the door.

It was the Wench, holding a bulb syringe. "Charles sent me. He said you might need this for rinsing Leticia out..."

Boris nodded, accepting the bulb and turning it in his hands. "Da. Thank him for me."

The Wench smiled, nodded, and got out of there. Boris returned to the changing room, holding the bulb. "This for inside."

Leticia puffed out a sigh. Obviously, she was NOT going to get a break! "Okay."

"How?"

"A couple of quick in an outs, I think," Leticia suggested. "I can do it here, since most of the mess is gone."

"Okay," Boris waved for her to continue. "I am bored. We are done soon, no?"

"Yes. Just a few more minutes." Warm water made her tortured ass feel better, but now she had to use the damned bulb... Ah, well... She flushed, sucked water out of the bowl, inserted the bulb gingerly in her cringing rectum and squeezed. Making no attempt to retain anything, she evacuated the small amount of water and the minor mess it carried with it and repeated the entire process. On pass three, things looked pretty good, so she spent a short time in the flow of the water and rose. "I think that's it."

"Turn around," Boris grunted. "Bend over." He took a good look, then ran his hands over her ass for good measure. "Wet."

Leticia shrugged. "No towel."

"Get one. We go to sauna now."

Christ! He was going to do her ass in a sauna? What an evening! Sweating like a pig while he shoved a baseball bat up her sore ass! God, she wished she'd never opened her big, fat mouth!

But it didn't happen that way. Boris settled himself on the sauna seat and rumbled, "Come! Give me titties. We sweat a little before we go to baths." She straddled him, feeling his thick cock rise and fall at her crotch while he fondled, nibbled, and suckled at her erect nipples. "These too small," he rumbled. "I will talk to Boss about making you milk cow so you get decent sized titties. How you attract a man with these things?" Oddly, it didn't stop him from working them over...

After ten minutes, he leaned up and whiffed her armpit, surprising her. "You smell... like negress," he grunted.

Slapping her might have been kinder. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she started to blubber. "What?" he asked, confused.

"I... can't help it..."

"No." Boris shrugged. "Is what you are. I am Georgian, you are negress. These are facts. You live with them, no?" His eyes narrowed. "You want white?"

"What? Yes. No. Maybe. What do you mean?"

"You want to BE white? Or you want white man?"

"I can't BE white. But..."

"So. Little brown babies thing is for real with you?"

"Well, yes."

"Hah." Boris waved his arm. "Too hot in here for serious conversation. Go to shower, quick in and out -- wash off sweat. Meet me at baths." He swatted her on the ass. "Go!"

Boris did as he directed, and was in and out of the shower in no time. Leticia, however, stopped to soap her armpits, her twat, and, gingerly, her ass. Boris stuck his head in the shower room and roared, "Soap later! Get wet, come out! NOW!" Leticia hustled her ass to the hot tubs and helped him remove the cover from one. Before stepping in, he came around, grabbed her and smelled her armpits again. "Is not white. Is soap, or is maybe nothing. You are nothing?"

"N-no."

"Have some pride." He got into the tub, and waved her to follow. She settled opposite him, but he shook his head, pointing to a spot by his side, under his burly arm. "Here." Leticia shifted around and settled in next to him. "Okay, now we can talk serious, nyet? Warm water feels good on tushy?"

"Uh huh." The warm current was a balm on Leticia's abused ass.

"Okay, so, what does skinny, flat-chested negress have to offer white mans?"

"Negress?"

"Is what you are, is it not?" Boris murmured.

"We call it black."

"Huh. Okay. So, answer question."

"The same things skinny, flat-chested white women, do, I guess."

Boris grunted. "Why bother? Skinny, flat-chested white women not in demand, either. White men like titties." Boris was off to the races. "Black womans do not have a lot to offer. Either they are giant big, like Velma, or they are skinny and flat-chested, like you. White mans want woman with nice titties, orange, grapefruit, maybe cantaloupe. Giant big black womans have pumpkins or watermelons -- too big, like big balloon in parades. Even fat white womans usually don't blow up like parade balloon -- have grapefruits, or cantaloupes. White mans prefer that. Black mans prefer that." He eyed Leticia. "You are on other end. Skinny, flat-chested. Plenty of skinny, flat-chested white women -- mostly nervous types. Plenty skinny, flat-chested chinks." He scratched his head a moment. "How you say -- Orientals. They smaller, too. What makes you different?" He pursed his lips in thought. "Besides, I forgot problem with all black womans."

"What's that?"

"Bad temper." Boris grinned while Leticia worked through being furious.

"So, I have no drawing cards? I was a model!" Leticia insisted.

"Not for white mans. No titties." Leticia felt his hand on her thigh under the water. "Spread legs. I want to play with cat."

"Pussy," Leticia corrected.

"Right. Pussy." A meaty hand dragged her leg atop his. "You can play, too."

Leticia reached into his lap, knowing that it was an order. Meanwhile, a thick finger began sliding between her nether lips. "Okay, so what am I supposed to do? Get breast implants?"

Boris made a face. "Bah. When they find out the titties are fake, you are worse off! Grow titties naturally -- have children! Breast feed!"

"You're kidding, right?"

"Nyet. Be wet nurse, milk cow. Titties swell up, you attract mans." Boris was apparently deadly serious.

"That brings me back to the starting point, though!" Leticia pointed out. "I have to have a man before I can get pregnant!"

"Da." Boris nodded. "Is problem. What else do you have to attract white mans, then? Hmmmm." He eyed her up and down. "Big, soft lips -- you give good blowjobs. Maybe you start using cat -- pussy -- more often..." The thick finger had found her clit, and was riding it. "You are on pills, yes?"

"Yes."

"You will not have babies that way."

"I won't anyway, at this rate..."

Boris shrugged. "You had sex with white man last night. You will again, tonight. That is not too bad..." He eyed her. "Maybe I will breed you, if you ask nice." He pretended to look at the manicure of his free hand. "Otherwise, I just fuck you. You know that this will not be the last time you come to Boris..." This last was accompanied by a sidelong glance that begged a reaction.

He got it. "I'm here because Mr. Wilson told me to be!" Leticia asserted.

"Da," Boris agreed. "That is only reason?"

"Of course!" But the assertion lacked force. Leticia didn't believe it; Boris didn't either.

"We shall see," Boris rumbled. "Play more." Leticia resumed jacking his thick cock. In return, Boris's thick finger continued to bore its way into her vagina. Boris's heavy thumb settled on her clit, and Leticia found her arousal level rising, which led to more serious efforts on his cock.

In a few minutes, though, the timer went off and the jets stopped. "Okay, we are finished. Time for REAL shower," Boris announced, leading Leticia out of the tub. They replaced the cover, then Boris took her hand and led her back to the men's changing room. "We will both shower here."

Once the water was running and adjusted properly, Boris handed her the soap. "Wash me." Boris shampooed his thinning hair while Leticia handled everything else. Boris allowed her to avoid nothing, insisting that she wash his cock, his ass, his heavy balls. When he was rinsed to his satisfaction, he stepped away, "Now I watch YOU!" He did, too, even critiquing her efforts. "You will be clean, at least, to start..." he rumbled. When she was finished, he pointed back the way they had come. "We go now."

"My bikini?" Leticia asked.

"Is dirty," Boris replied. "Use towel, like I do. Show little titties." Boris had a towel around his ample middle. The injunction to display her upper body stopped an attempt at a more traditional wrap in its tracks. Well, she'd been topless a lot already today -- a little more wouldn't hurt her. She draped the towel at her waist and preceded Boris back through the halls to his rooms.

"Funny, at times, but this is apparently going to go slowly," Armand commented on activities in the sunroom. "Perhaps we should check on Bianca? Wench, get up here and take over; Sharon's mouth is getting tired." Armand started looking for Bianca, starting in the bachelor quarters.

"Pete!" Bianca rapped on Pete's door.

"What the--" Pete, watching a ball game in sweats, hopped up from his couch and went to the door. "Who's there?"

"It's Bianca, Pete. Open up."

"I don't know if that's a good idea..."

"You don't want a bunch of people seeing me here, do you? They'll get ideas..."

"All right." Pete opened the door, looked both ways, and waved Bianca in. "Why are you here?"

"I... heard that you were upset," Bianca replied carefully.

Pete waved her into a chair, then carefully settled himself on the couch with the coffee table interposed between them. "Well, I don't know if I'd go that far. But I've cooled down a bit."

"What does THAT mean?"

"It means, I'm thinking, instead of feeling. Bianca, I should never have gone as far as I have with you! Guys who seduce fourteen-year-old girls are child molesters! I'm... not into that..."

"Seduce? You seduced me? Ummm, Pete..."

"Okay, so, maybe you were doing most of the seducing. But other people won't see it that way," Pete insisted. "Other people will make assumptions..." He smiled. "Besides, you weren't doing those things with someone else. I have to assume I had SOME hand in it..."

Bianca dimpled. "Well, okay. But still, you worry about other people. Other people KNOW! And they don't care!"

"Your mother cares -- and she doesn't think it's a good idea!"

"Mama was living in some old-country fantasy! Jason gave her a good talking to!" Bianca insisted.

Pete grimaced. "At least!" He shook his head. "Miz Wilson was down here to give ME a talking to!"

"I spoke to her," Bianca said. "She made it clear that if I wanted it, no one would stand in the way. In fact, she told me that I'd better be sure, because if I chickened out at the last minute, no one was going to come running to my rescue!"

"That's some deal!" Pete rolled his eyes.

"Well, she was making a point," Bianca replied. "She said that my fight with Mama was childish -- but that she had decided that my approach to sex was very adult."

"But you're NOT an adult! You're fourteen!" Pete insisted.

"That's a number, Pete!" Bianca insisted. "Before you knew it, it didn't matter! Look at me! Do I look like a child?"

"Well, no..."

"What DO I look like? And don't lie -- I know too much!"

"Okay." Pete searched for terms. "You look like some kind of fertility goddess. You look like you should be having sex this week, and babies next week. A lot of guys would just take one look and howl..."

Bianca smiled ruefully. "In the old country, that's probably what would be happening! Pete, girls my age DO have sex where I come from -- and children, too! And many times, they don't get to pick who they do it with. Here, I have choices..."

"Well, I don't. It's against the law."

"The law is there to protect girls from child molesters, not to keep them from having sex with someone they WANT to have sex with!"

Pete sighed. "Actually, the law doesn't discriminate. You're right about why it's there, but the assumption is that below a certain age, young girls are not competent to make such choices. And that means the adult is considered guilty of taking advantage of her, no matter what!"

Bianca's face twisted. "That's ridiculous! I could have sex with a boy my own age..."

Pete sighed. "Yes, you could -- and probably, he would escape any trouble that might come of it because HE, too, is considered to be too young to make the proper choices."

"But that's insane!" Bianca hopped up and stamped her foot.

"I agree. From what you tell me, several others in this household agree, too. But it's the law."

"B-but..." Bianca's face fell, and tears began to well up.

Pete stood and moved to comfort her. That was his first mistake. "Shhhh. It's all right. There's no mad rush..."

Bianca collapsed against him, tucking her head into his shoulder -- but that brought her breasts against him, and her crotch against his thigh... The embrace was fierce; she shook with her sobs, but got out, "You don't understand! I--I feel the way you say I look! I can't go waiting four or five years! I'm ready NOW!"

Pete had no answer for that; all he could do was to cuddle her and rub her back -- which was probably his second mistake.

For several minutes, there were just the sobs -- but slowly, they subsided, and Bianca began to move against Pete, reacting to his caresses. Pete, lulled by the mechanics of the effort and the fact that they appeared to be calming her, missed the point. He also initially missed the subtle shifts in position that got her crotch wrapped around his right thigh -- until it started to get seriously warm! Even then, his brain was running behind when the alert went off in his OTHER head, which called his erection to action, straining against his sweatpants!

The sudden realization that things were too good dawned, but Bianca wasn't letting go of Pete; if anything, she clutched him tighter. Somehow, she neatly scotched his efforts to keep his cock out of contact with her left hip, too! Raising her face from his shoulder, her look disheveled but sultry, she murmured, "How long must I wait?"

The little minx opened up a drop shot for Pete's eyeballs with the move, too, right down between a pair of plush brown orbs with a hint of a flush on their upper surfaces. Moving his eyes up to her smoky ones didn't help, either. "How long until you're fifteen?" he croaked.

"Two months. Less."

"Uhhh..." When did math get so hard? "Fourteen months?"

"Pete, mi amour," Bianca breathed, her face serious as she rubbed his cheek, "that would kill us both! Be reasonable!"

"I'm trying!" Pete croaked.

"No, you are being gallant, but foolish. I--you know I cannot wait that long!" Somehow, she managed to crush her heated crotch against his thinly covered erection. "Others -- ones who care less for propriety -- those will make offers. I am weak; watching Felicia enjoy you all, watching Mama carry on with Mister Jason, the other things that go on in this house... One of them -- Phillippe, perhaps -- will catch me in a weak moment, and I will succumb. But I will be wanting you..."

Phillippe? If anyone was certain to make a complete botch of things for his own gratification... "You would sleep with Phillippe?"

"Not willingly! But if you persist in this silliness, I could fall prey to him! Can you not see that this silly legal thing will bring evil upon us? The thought of opening my body to another while dreaming of you..." Bianca shuddered. "I am... vulnerable. You sense it. Do you not realize that others do, too? Phillippe is only one of several dangers..."

"Uuhhh..." She had him on the ropes, his fevered imagination drawing pictures of her body spread beneath Phillippe, while he pounded away, uncaring -- or worse, Jason, who practically owned her mother, or Mr. Wilson, who tastes were arcane, to say the least...

"Please!" she pled, "Put aside your worries over silly laws, and do what you KNOW is right! Please!"

"I-I'll think about it."

"Oh, thank God!" Bianca began to weep again, this time in joy -- and Pete was lost... Raining kisses on his neck added a physical component that reinforced the 'decision'.

Pete's hormones were going nuts, but he WAS a good decade older than Bianca, and he DID have SOME control... "Let's sit down," he croaked.

But Bianca had the initiative, and she draped herself over him, rolling him onto his back.

"Determined little thing, isn't she?" Armand remarked.

"Uh huh," The Wench mumbled around her current task.

"Not you!" Armand delivered a swat to the Wench's ass. "Pay attention to what you're doing!"

Sharon giggled. "Well, it sure looks like it, but who knows whether she'll get him there tonight?"

"Perhaps not," Armand grunted. "Back to Boris. Wench! Keep those lips tight, or I'll go for the throat!" He swapped over to Boris's quarters.

Leticia was kneeling before Boris in his quarters, swallowing his erection. "Da!" he grunted. "Make Boris hard! The next act will be easier if I am hard..." In a moment, he gruffly offered, "You can play..."

Leticia, however, was using both hands already, and had none left over for herself. One hand balanced her against his heavy hip while the other massaged his sizeable balls. Her mouth was more than busy, suctioning his thick erection. Boris encouraged her efforts with a hand on the back of her head, buried in her springy comb-out. It was difficult for her not to fight his increasingly intense pressure on the in-stroke as his excitement increased; fortunately, he lacked the length required for a serious run at her throat...

"Okay!" he grunted, "Up on couch! Point tushy at Boris -- we begin!"

Leticia did as she was told, cringing at the thought of the act in the offing -- but she had no choice, so she might as well take advantage of all that preparation...

Boris had one last bit of preparation to carry out, however; Leticia's first inkling came when a warm wetness dribbled along her ass crack. "Boris remembered oil," he announced, matter-of-factly. "This way maybe not break things." In a moment, a stubby finger violated her anus -- but at least it wasn't the torture it could have been. "Open up, little slut," Boris warned. "You will be getting much more than finger!"

"Yes, Boris!" Leticia overrode instinct, pushing to open herself up. Boris dribbled a bit more oil from the bottle over his fingers and the going got easier; in a moment, he had two fingers inside her already tortured ass. The plug had NOT been pleasant, and she was pretty irritated, inside -- but then, this was a punishment, wasn't it? Leticia gritted her teeth and set herself to accept Boris's invasion.

The Wench was getting the same attention from Armand -- without the benefit of oil! "Come over here and give your sister a little spit," Armand directed Sharon.

'My sister, huh?' Sharon thought, but she kept it to herself as she attempted to work up a little lubrication for poor Wench. Fortunately, the Wench was trained to this activity, and was tolerating it better than the black woman on screen, despite the lack of lubrication; besides, there was that extra element of masochism in the Wench's make-up...

On-screen, Boris was obviously trying to decide whether an attempt to insert three fingers in Leticia's rectum was worth the trouble; after a couple of attempts, he desisted, instead preparing his thick cock for the main event. "Okay, now, do not fight..."

"Uuuuuuhhhhh!!!" Leticia grunted into the couch pillows as the blunt head of Boris's cock replaced his fingers. The thing was like a baseball bat going in, stretching her beyond her limits; the only thing that kept the exercise going was his foreskin and the lubricating layer of oil that he'd applied to it. Leticia wanted to scream, but it felt like he was pushing the air out of her lungs; instead, she chewed the corner of the couch pillow and moaned as he slowly forced his girth into her protesting colon. It burned, and felt like she was being shredded -- but then the plug had, too, earlier in the day, and she'd survived that; in fact, there had been very little blood, despite the incredible raw soreness the thing had inflicted on her.

Boris took his time; the skinny negress had quite a bit to do to take him, and there was no rush. If she stayed anywhere near this tight, he wouldn't last long, anyway... Watching his cock disappear into her narrow ass was very exciting! "Da! Is tight! Take it, little slut! Take Boris to hilt!"

The Wench, on the other hand, emitted a high whine as Armand inserted himself in HER ass; Armand wasn't taking near the care Boris was, for one thing, and the amount of lubrication available was minimalist, for another. Much greater experience allowed the Wench to do her job, however, and as for the noise, Armand liked it that way, anyway. Sharon sat off- side, watching, glad that poor Felicia was taking the heat...

Once seated against the thin padding of Leticia's ass-cheeks, Boris began sawing back and forth in short strokes, looking for some freedom of movement. Leticia gripped the couch arm tightly, working to minimize the agony caused by any movements she might make -- Boris was bad enough without adding to things! Her ass would never be the same -- that much was certain! Taking Boris up there was like taking a pipe, or a telephone pole -- no mere woman was made for this! She did, however, recognize that things could be worse; Boris had a sizeable foreskin, and it was taking most of the friction of his movements. Had he been without, the friction of his motion would have been a LOT worse!

"Unk, unk, unk," Boris grunted, pistoning in and out. The little slut was tight, very tight! Even though he was fully in and moving, her tight ass had given very little ground, and it was providing him with intense sensations as he sawed back and forth. In very little time, Boris felt his heavy balls begin to draw up to deliver their load, and the pleasure boost that presaged his orgasm arrived -- but he controlled the berserkergang that provided the final peak of his ecstasy, knowing that Leticia would likely be ruined by it. Still, Leticia knew his power as he reached his peak, shooting globs of jism into her colon -- he pounded her hard during those last few strokes. But it wasn't the full release of the night before, and Boris recovered fairly rapidly, collecting a towel and wiping the oil from his hands. "Come, little one, clean my cock," he ordered.