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I brushed lightly past one of them with my left hand and it felt like an electric shock ran from it to the depths of my pussy. As my breathing subsided, I gave myself over to complete the task I had started. As well, I wanted to see if my feelings in the car were what I remembered. I spread my legs about half way and found the entrance to my vaginal path with my index finger. It was just as soft as I remembered it from the five or so seconds in the car at the traffic light. I slid my finger in just like before. There was no resistance, no friction to stop me from inserting it as far as I could. As I reached in, my blood began to boil once more towards another mountainous climax. I wiggled my finger round a bit and found that it was very pleasurable to rub it with some pressure against the forward wall. Without thinking about it, I raised my knees into the air and further spread my legs, giving myself complete access to my now soaking wet pussy. I quickly inserted my middle finger as. If you don’t, now, fuck the hell out of me, I swear I’ll tell the police you blackmailed me on WhatsApp !”I was awestruck. I was amazed and scared. I thought of Vedika as this shy, religious girl. But here she was, blackmailing me for sex. I had no choice. I got trapped in my own trap.“Alright.”, I said.I was wearing a nylon material boxers. A blind man could see my erection through it. Vedika had no mercy. She came close to me and held my dick. Soon, pulled down my boxers, and there stood my dark Knight- black and strong, pointed towards her. She started stroking it with hand. Then she blew me. Just as I moaned a little “aah!”, She stood up and gave me a tight slap on my face. “You are my slave now. Do only what I tell you to.” I nodded, and she went down to blow me.After some time, she removed her kameez, and her pink dotted underwear. As she was about to sit on my dick, I asked her if I can kiss her nipples. Bham ! She slapped me again. Only this time, too hard. I was in pain. She.
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She’s changed since she came to live with my family. We pretty much required her to live the same way we do, which for her means holding a part-time job, doing chores, and being responsible to the adults in the house for where she goes and who she’s with.”“Why did she come to live with you?”And this was where I pretty much had no choice but to sell Noel Spurgeon down the river. I’d make a half-hearted attempt to avoid answering, but I wasn’t going to lie.“Because she didn’t like living at home.”“For what reason?”I knew that question was coming.“She wasn’t comfortable bringing her friends here.”“Why was that?” he asked, predictably.“Because according to Samantha, her dad hit on every one of her friends. It’s one of the things she complained bitterly to me about. And what drove her to want to leave home. She couldn’t have friends at home without her dad hitting on them. And that made her very uncomfortable.”“I understand that Mr. Spurgeon has homes besides Chicago. Have you been to any.

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