"One mistake and we all put our prods to work and maybe some other things too." japanese Ben grinned. "Please Nooo." Gina sobbed. Gina was very scared. The men sounded cruel and she had no doubt they would inflict great pain. Gina looked straight at the four men now semi-erect cooks. They were all large cooks, larger than Gina had had before. "Are you going mom to be a good whore and fuck good or homemade should we start with the prods?" Ben asked her. All four men enjoy this mental teasing of their reward for this trip. With smiling faces, they all poked their prods at indian Gina's tits, which were hanging freely in the position she was in. Gina couple didn't notice Jack walking behind her but she felt him poking at her clit and pussy lips. "Since she hasn't answered you, maybe we should give her some encouragement." He said as he poked her clit. "Noooooo...I'll be good." Gina howled which shear panic in her voice. "You'll be a good what?" "I'll be a good whore." Gina tried. "That's not good enough. Is that the best you can do then you are in trouble." Ben's voice rang out. As he was saying that, he pressed his prod into her left tit. " Please Noooo.....I'll be the best fucking whore for you." “I would not have walked in here, taken my towel off my wet naked body while you play with your clit and my brother in law sits on the phone stroking his fat cock if I wasn’t sure about it.” "Daddy, I'm couple cumming for you. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said, his hand slid along her body from her shoulders to her buttocks as he gave her a little kiss, she shivered. I fluttered my tongue against the tip. Now I was feeling embarrassed, “Anyone fancy a drink, it’s my round?” Jack pulled back an inch or so and shoved again hard as he bottomed out, balls deep. And my asshole he claimed after his swim team won their championship in May. Laura arrived at her brother's hotel room wearing a trench coat, and nothing beneath it except lacy pink panties and bra. The guy at the right goes down, it was a complete sucker punch but I couldn’t give a shit less right now. Mr. Ferguson was the funeral director of the local funeral home, and he and his son were moving around some equipment in a small room that looked more like a clean japanese garage than the morgue where she'd indian been last night. It all took two minutes but the effect on mom Deen was a lifelong source of jerk off material. “You can do it, Cassie!” Master MT would homemade hiss, huddled up by my side, clutching my trembling hand. He drained the last of his beer and tossed the can onto the pile of leaves they were building in Chelsea’s yard. I reached back and held onto his thigh, scraping him as I moaned.