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Younger white wife fucks a married old black man.

It most probably wasn't the best one to use but you have to give me brownie points for trying at least. My point is both of them enjoy fucking me thinking the other one doesn't know...but you already know that. I'm rambling. I do that when I'm excited. Anyway, I called her and slipped my phone in my bag.

The journey to the hotel was actually pretty fun. I know that most guys want a manual car because 1. Automatics are for pussies and 2. They just last longer, but do you know what the advantage of having an automatic is? David managed to finger me pretty much the entire journey there, even when we were waiting at the lights. I think he enjoyed that the most because I had to resist every urge to squirm or react to his touch. Occasionally I would give in and he would pull his fingers away to punish me each time. To add insult to injury he would wipe his fingers on my lips and ordered me not to either wipe them with a napkin or lick them.

I looked in the mirror and saw that my lips were glistening in the passing streetlights.

I was scared that he would make me go into the hotel like this but thankfully he ordered me to lick my lips when he parked the car outside.

'How does your pussy taste, bitch?' he asked.

'Very good.'

Suddenly his hand was around my throat. 'You still have to call me "Sir" you little whore,' his grip tightened.

'Sorry, Sir,' I wheezed.

He let go on my throat and smirked. 'Now get your chubby little arse in there.'

'Yes, Sir,' I replied and slipped out.

David went to the boot of the car and pulled out a suitcase out. He followed me inside and to the front desk to check in. The woman behind the counter kept giving me a judgemental look the entire time. I didn't give a shit. I bet they had had plenty of hookers in there before. They most probably make ton of money from guys hiring out prostitutes. I was just adding to their profit. David took the key and led me upstairs to our room.

'After you,' he said opening the door and I walked inside. He followed and closed the door behind him. The door had barely closed when he turned me round, grabbed me by my throat and held me against the wall. I accidently dropped my bag on the floor in response. 'You dirty whore.'

He tightened his grip and I struggled to breathe. He could tell and, rather than loosen his fingers, he squeezed even harder.

'I'm going to let go, Miss Pacitto,' he told me and I was surprised to hear a threatening tone in his voice.

It sent shivers down my spine.

'And when I do,' he continued, 'I want you to face the wall with your hands above your head. Understand?'

'Y-es, Sir,' I struggled to say and he let go of my throat.

I turned round and placed my hands above my head. I heard him unzip the suitcase and the next thing I knew he covered my eyes with a blindfold. Beneath my excitement was a hint of fear. I couldn't see anything. He could do anything to me. He grabbed my top and pulled it off before quickly taking off my skirt. Apparently he wasn't that interested in my outfit, much to my annoyance. I made the effort to look like a cheap tart, the least he could do is act like he enjoyed it. He grabbed me by my hair and pulled me along.

Being pulled by your hair when you can't see a thing isn't very pleasant. You never know when you're going to bump into something due to the other person's inability to guide you...not that I'm experienced with being blindfolded and led about...about the same time that is. He sat me down, pulled my hands behind my back and handcuffed them so tightly that it hurt. Then he spread my legs and cuffed my ankles to the legs of the chair. I was completely restrained, exposed and at his mercy. What came next was completely unexpected.

He gagged me.

I had expected to hear him unzip his trousers and for him to guide his cock to my mouth.

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