A startled cry escaped from his lips. Then both knees were taken out from under him. The cracks as the joints failed echoed loudly in the night. The next thing he knew, he was falling. His head bounced off the pavement.He regained consciousness to discover that he was lying on his back with her seated on his chest. He tried to move, but his arms and legs were useless. He had the image from a British comedy in which a knight who had lost all of his limbs was taunting his opponent that he’d bite him to death. It had been funny. Unfortunately, he was now that knight and there was nothing funny about his situation.In a conversational tone of voice, Betsy said, “I could assume that you had a deprived childhood, but I personally think that is a bunch of nonsense. You are just a very bad man.”“Don’t kill me,” the man pleaded.Betsy said, “I won’t kill you. Where would be the challenge in that?”“No challenge at all,” the man stuttered.He knew that she was playing with his head. He even thought. Susan had the milky complexion of a true English red head with a sprinkling of freckles on her neck, upper chest, and arms. Her breasts were B cup (almost C) and firm, the white flesh contrasting nicely with a set of bright pink areolas capped with long pink nipples that stiffened nicely when aroused. Because her skin was so light, it was easy to see the sex flush cover her upper chest and neck -- a dead giveaway that she was well along the path toward climax. From above, it was a marvelous tableau -- Debbie’s deep tan and blond hair contrasting with the white skin and red hair of her partner. Debbie’s kisses covered Susan’s neck, up to her earlobe, and back down, working her way toward Susan’s breasts, which were like ripe fruit, ready to be tasted.Susan’s eyes were closed and she wore a slight smile on her face. Her expression betrayed some of her sexual tension mixed with anticipation. She was entirely focused on what Debbie’s lips and tongue were doing and how good they made her.
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