I laid Marty back on the blanket and ran my hands up and down her body. her head, face, shoulders, breasts, down her stomach, around her hips, down he... legs. Marty would gasp with each caress. As I drew my hands up the inside of her legs, I gently ran my fingertips up over the swollen mons of her womanhood. When I did this she yelped, wrapped both her arms around my head and pulled me to her chest. Like a woman possessed she held on for dear life. Pulling my head free, I purposely laid her. As I fixed the white cotton covers to my queen sized bed, I became entranced by memories of our sexual adventure the previous week. Flashes of his head between my legs, pulling my hair, flipping me on top of him, or dominating himself over me went through my mind. An excerpt in a book once wrote, “He had a quality of masculine confidence that was a thousand times more potent than mere handsomeness. Perfect good looks could leave you cold, but this kind of sexy charisma went straight to your. He grabbed the back of my head and pulled me farther onto his cock. I tried to take all his cock into my mouth. I could feel it trying to snake its way down the back of my throat. I tried to pull back but Zeck held me firm. I started to use my teeth to bite on his dick as he forced it into my mouth. After a few seconds, he pulled back and allowed me breath again. I licked all over his dick, cleaning every inch of it."That's it Susan, yoou're doing a very good job." Zeck patted me on the head. He blamed the slaves, even if he should have known they were likely to be mostly unarmed. But, he became emotionally dead, quit the army, and made a life of hunting slaves. It became a sort of revenge for his lost family and life.After that day at the lake, he became quiet for days later, still not touching her, but increasing his attention to her in small ways, like eating at the table, removing the chain and giving her an old dress to cover herself with. Then, coming in from his work.
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