Just one hour a week! How my eyes feasted on her form. I was allowed to look: she was teacher. She stood at the front of the class, twisting herself i...to a series of crazy postures, which we all struggled vainly, flabbily, to copy. She was perfect. We trembled before her perfection – three old ladies, a skeletal teenager, and me. She didn’t seem to notice us: it was as if we were viewing her own private ritual. I stood at the back of the class and stared unashamedly. The whole hour, I gazed at. With a surprised gasp, as her muscles failed to catch her, she fell down into a heap on the ground, landing face down in the thick slick mud, filthy water filling her mouth as she struggled to roll herself onto her back, coughing as she spat out the mud, the taste foul and gritty on her sensitive tongue.After an exerted effort she got a hand under herself, mud pressing between her fingers as she managed, just, to roll herself onto her back, gasping in shock as she opened one eye, the other. A stunning brunette who I quickly learned had a taste for dominating her boyfriends. When I had told her that was a fantasy of mine, Julia and I soon found our selves conveniently away from the others for a spontaneous session of female domination.I had cleaned and worshipped her muddy boots, had my bare ass whipped with her belt, and was then teased and denied of sexual relief. Rough as it had been, submitting to Miss Julia, as she insisted on being called, had been my fantasy come true and. ..and Jeremy's drifting eyes fell upon a very well-built man wearingthe uniform of a soldier. Apparently, he was showing off to a group ofhis friends, flexing his biceps and his triceps as if he were at abodybuilding show. The words between them were entirely italian.Jeremy's eyes, however, lingered as he stepped back onto the sidewalk.Irma had paused a moment to make a quick cell phone call, leaving herson's eyes to stare in fascination at the flexing italian soldier.He could feel the.
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