But now they had seen the real thing their appetite had grown stronger still (Miss Driscoll’s Year 9 classes were, just like their older counterpart..., now constantly interrupted by wolf whistles and sordid requests).For Molly though, the experience had not satisfied her growing sexual frustration. If anything, it had made it worse. The young, pretty blonde had, like everyone else, developed a nightly ritual of touching herself. But unlike everyone else, she had not come close to giving herself. He comes up behind me and rubs his hands all over my body. "That's my girl," he says as he turns me around and kisses me again. I feel his hard cock against my thigh and I want to reach down and touch it but I know that I won't get what I want by doing that. He leads me back over to the bed and tells me to lie on my back, hands still over my head. I do, and I feel the rope wrapping around my right wrist. He weaves the rope through the headboard and comes around the bed to tie up my left wrist.. More

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