She could not really make a sound, but my cock could feel the vibrations of the moans that started and were smothered in her throat. Her body movement... added twitches and shudders, and an occasional twist of the hips. Her hand seemed to be doing very painful things to her pleasure button. She slapped her pussy hard. Still, I was constant in the small strokings of my cock, and the ways my fingers caressed her her body from waist to neck, with a double circle around her breasts and a brush across. I am a Work of Great Art. I am a vision to be relished, appreciated and revered. I am fulfilled. I am proud. The applause has died down, and I can hear the proliferation of whispered comments being passed from one woman to another. I could stay like this forever. Automatically, my arms lift themselves from my sides, to rest a while out from my sides, before continuing, to join, clasped high above my head. The clapping starts up again, and I soak it up, proud but also humbled. No other detail. More

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