Her head shook in response to each stroke with such violence that I feared she would hurt herself. Brett, watching his wife deliver stroke after stroke must have had the same idea for he slid a thin pillow under Lynette's head. Still Olga struck with the knout on Lynette's pussy; rhythmically, methodically. The knots hit sometimes on the larger lips, sometimes in between, sometimes on the bone. All of Lynette's skin shone with her sweat. I stretched out my hand to caress her breast, still purple from yesterday's exertions but Brett held my wrist."You can't touch her," he said, "not with your bare hands."Olga finished striking her mound, "Thirty," she said, and tossed the knout aside."What can I touch her with then?" I asked.He handed me a pair of pliers.I looked at the pliers uncomprehending."You can always increase her suffering," he said, gesturing at Lynette with his head. "Don't use them on her pussy, not yet."I looked at my beloved. She watched me, mute, with her deep brown. She was cryingnow, confused by the drink and the speed things had happened.Keith started to take off his clothes, and said he wanted to see what Doris'stits were like. Like a flash Mike was pulling her top off, and suddenly mywife's pert little tits were on display as well. "Let's see her arse now," Keithmumbled, and immediately Doris was turned half round to expose her lovely roundarse, the thin ribbon of her black thong almost invisible between her cheeks.She looked small and helpless and extremely vulnerable and fuckable as Keith ranhis hands up and down the back of her thighs, clenching them sometimes round herexposed arse cheeks.I could see his cock getting hard, just like mine, as he thought of how in justa few minutes he would feel it inside Doris's tight cunt, and then watcheveryone else fucking her too. His hands hooked into the thong, and slowly hepulled the scrap of material down over Doris's knees. Now my wife was almostnaked, her skirt and top crumpled round her waist,.
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