His hand reached out to caress her tit.

She rose to her toes with a squeal as the caress became a meaty squeeze, crushing her tender flesh in his large hand.

He laughed.

“You make the cutest noises.”

She danced on her toes as the squeeze became more, a vise-grip on her breast, the nipple cleverly caught between two fingers, low, near his palm. The squeal became a gutteral moan, then a cry of pain.

“Please! OW! Oh Please Sir…”

With a last firm pulse of his hand, he released the tit, and sought its mate.