While his hand-tailored suit spoke of refined tastes and high quality, the scars on the hand that straightened the tie and smoothed the hair told of a...more violent past, one that was only lightly wrapped in Armani silk and Savile Row culture.She shivered as he looked at the wall clock over her head and tugged at his gold and diamond cufflinks for the tenth time. A soft chime in her headset let her know that Mr. Tyler was ready for this mysterious guest.Relieved, she keyed the intercom and spoke. "Now," she said, "I’m going to flush your head in the toilet and then fuck you some more, so you can think about what just happened as the water drips off your face." She pulled out and stood over me, pushing my head down into the toilet until my face was completely submerged in the icy toilet water. I heard the toilet flush and the water began to swirl around my face. I struggled to breathe and to keep the water out of my nose and mouth, my mind spinning from the fear and eroticism of it. He smiled, enjoying seeing her like this, “Not a chance, not just yet…” She began giving him a blowjob, utilizing her tongue to explore the rugged edges of his rod, and her velvety lips to bring him closer to cumming. He admitted to himself that it was amazing, breathing in heavily and balancing himself on the table, but he soon decided enough was enough, lifting her up and bending her over the table, “No…” she yelped, but showed no physical signs of resistance as he gently pulled the shirt. There were six of them playing three against three, their bags and discarded clothing acting as make-shift goalposts. And though they clearly weren't teenagers--at a guess, their average age was at least thirty years old--they were behaving as though they were, their constant banter and ribbing of each other audible on the breeze.But then even I could deduce that the tall, skinny bloke they called Tim wasn't exactly what you'd call a natural sportsman. 'Oh fucking hell, mate!' one of them cried.
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