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"Good, David, that will help that dry throat and ease the stress. Relax more for me."She pulled up her stool and sat at the head of the massage table, gently working his neck for a few minutes, then moving to his head, giving the drug time to work. When she started massaging his temples she was rewarded with a long sigh. She looked down at the towel covering his crotch and was pleased to see a growing bulge.She picked up the small remote with one hand and with the other started drawing small gentle circles on his forehead, a special touch made even more special by... another set of chimes sounded as she pushed the button on the remote.As the sound of that chime faded, she spoke softly "Now David, what did you need to tell Cynthia?"He'd called yesterday afternoon, complaining of a stress headache, was there any way she could see him in the morning? His conscious mind didn't know it, but that was his way of signaling he'd come across something potentially useful. These morning slots. She giggled and said it seemed like he had her cumming almost all the time. Then she made a pouty face and asked me if she was a slut. Then she said no man wants to have a wife that is a slut and I kissed her lips. I told her I was going to marry her no matter what and maybe I wanted her to be just a little bit slutty. Then I asked her if she had fun with Tony and she said she was really drunk. Then she looked down and said she wasn't a slut.I asked her to rate her sex with Tony on a scale of one to ten. Amy thought about it and said Tony was like a porn star. Then she told me he lasts a long time and knows what makes it feel good and she giggled and made a shocked look. Then she whispered that Tony was really good at fucking. Amy looked up at me and then said he would be a good porn star. Again I asked her if she liked fucking Tony and she said she was drunk and it really felt tight. She giggled and I asked her again if she liked fucking Tony and Amy shook her head yes. I asked her.
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His hand is around my neck and he’s squeezing the tips of his fingers around the arteries on each side of my throat. What’s this? No. What’s going on? I’m panicking. I can still breath. He’s not closing off the air but things are going black. I grab at his forearm. It’s so hard. I manage to say ‘no’ and I pull at his arm trying to get it away from my throat. He loosens his grip slightly but keeps his hand around my neck. He lifts his head up. He looks me in the eye. ‘Trust me,’ he says. He says it softly in his rich voice. It’s a low growl. I feel the breath of those words breeze across my pussy. My pussy clenches and twitches and there’s a sensation I don’t recognize. I decide to trust him. I stop pulling his forearm away and begin to pull it toward my neck. I feel the tips of his broad, strong fingers tighten again. He lowers his head and I feel the tip of his tongue, thick and hard, land on my clit. I realize what the sensation is—it’s my pussy flooding with wetness. The world.

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