“Bitch, stop that.”“Why?” I asked, my hand rubbing at the crotch of her jeans. I could feel her warmth bleeding through the denim. “You’re...so wet right now. Aren’t you? You’re getting off on the White futa-cop dominating you. You want to be my little slut, don’t you? My submissive whore. That’s why you’re acting out like this. You want me to show you how strong I am.”I rubbed at her cunt through her jeans, making her moan and shudder.“Do you feel how strong I am, cunt?”“Yes, ma’am,” she. They were fresh, moist, warm and fluffy, and they smelled and tasted wonderful, especially lathered with generous helpings of butter and strawberry jam!We sat around the table, five of us still in our dressing gowns, and enjoyed our breakfast treat.Hamish was really impressed that Sheila had found a place open on the Sabbath morning. The bakery around the corner from Caledonia Place was always firmly shut on a Sunday; the baker felt that he deserved a lie-in one day a week!After enjoying my. More

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