And again. I pulsed and moaned with the cracks, the pain stoking the pleasure. I was shameless. I pressed myself against the hole in the chair and thrust out my breasts to Alex. The pleasure just didn't seem to ebb; the strokes on my sex grew harsher. The sharp strikes against my nipples just prolonged my orgasm. Then, finally, the shaking pleasure grew sensitive. The blows slopped. Corrine softened her stimulation and finally I felt what must have been a kiss against my still pulsing clit. I could finally focus on Alex's face again. "Wow," I said breathlessly. She massaged my breast like how she had my other one. "Wow, yourself," Alex said, her breathing heavy. I could smell her musky arousal mix with my sweetness. "Corrine's going to have a very nice rest of the night because of you." Corrine unbound my legs, then my arms, and then stood in front of me, smirking, her face shiny with my wetness. She handed me my panties and I pulled them on under my skirt. When she went to retrieve. Grant found her standing near the railing of the small balcony, her white nightgown whipping in the wind. Animated by the ocean breeze, Carrie’s hair seemed to dance and fly from her bare shoulders. The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below the hotel prevented him from listening to her. He could read Carrie like a book. He knew when she sang she was either extremely happy or extremely sad. When she moaned she was aroused, either sexually or intellectually. And when she sighed – those sighs that sounded like they started in the tips of her toes, growing into tidal waves before pouring out from her lips – he knew she was thinking things she wanted to escape. He couldn’t hear her now, couldn’t rely on her tell-tale sounds to reveal what was bothering her. So he stood at the edge of the doorway and watched her form outlined by the falling moon that peaked from behind a mountain of clouds. He watched a strap fall from her shoulders, a shiver run through her barely covered.
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