With his right hand he drew her sobbing face against his chest. Caressing her back he comforted her, "Don't cry, Cindy. Please." I'm sorry, Sir." She ...obbed more violently now, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her big breasts pressed tightly against his chest. She felt his bulge press against her lower body."It's okay, don't cry." But she continued to cry, sobbing heavily."All right, cry all you want but you'll soil my shirt with your tears. Let me remove my shirt."He removed his tie and shirt. What the actual fuck? And again on my other, perfectly innocent, cheek of wiggle-flesh. And then he pushed me out of the room, hand smacking at my exposed buttocks, driving me before him, a firm whack at each step, tremors rippling through my arse to my thighs and the twinging, throbbing, heated, shower nozzle hidden between them. Now I may have mastered and mistressed the twin arts of standing up and walking in five-inch, spiky-spiked, killer heels, but even for a perky, pokie, sodden-cunted,. More

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