Bring me a man for me.
I shuddered. At last you wanted to materialize my fantasy, your fantasy. I had wanted him for so long ... I knew who and I went to talk to him. Andres had introduced us when we were lovers and, although he never said anything out of respect, his desire was evident. I explained what we wanted to do, he hesitated a moment as he calibrated, but he nodded and his eyes glittered on his ebony skin.
He arrived at the agreed time. You were sitting in the chair, motionless and silent. Your presence intimidated him at first but, when I kissed him, he grabbed my dress and tore it like a beast leaving me naked and helpless. She opened her jaws and engulfed one of my breasts with her full lips while her hands lowered my thong and her fingers sought my pussy, parted her lips, caressed the clitoris, sank inside me. She bit down on my nipple with her ivory teeth and begged. He obeyed and nailed his fangs with such force that I thought he would rip it off, while tracing lines, circles, spirals with his fingers, in my sex, slowly, quickly, over and over, over and over, looking for the source that only Andres he knew how to find.
I pulled down his stretch-waist linen pants and stroked his large, hard, erect member, turning the wrist, rocking it up and down, down and up, slowly, quickly, over and over, over and over, as he continued to devour my nipple, and I looked at you in the eyes that shone wickedly, and at your hand, which caressed your cock mimicking his hand, with mine, until I started to moan, and he began to moan, and you started to moan and you You got up from the chair, and you came up to us, and you pulled my hair, and I accelerated the rhythm, and he accelerated the rhythm, and you accelerated the rhythm, and I burst into his hand like a flood that spilled down my thighs, by my knees, moistening the ground, and he ran into my hand, and you, in yours, in my belly, in my pubis, in my hand, in his hand, like three tributaries that feed the same river.
"You are my whore."
"I am your whore."
Autor: Anónimo
I shuddered. At last you wanted to materialize my fantasy, your fantasy. I had wanted him for so long ... I knew who and I went to talk to him. Andres had introduced us when we were lovers and, although he never said anything out of respect, his desire was evident. I explained what we wanted to do, he hesitated a moment as he calibrated, but he nodded and his eyes glittered on his ebony skin.
He arrived at the agreed time. You were sitting in the chair, motionless and silent. Your presence intimidated him at first but, when I kissed him, he grabbed my dress and tore it like a beast leaving me naked and helpless. She opened her jaws and engulfed one of my breasts with her full lips while her hands lowered my thong and her fingers sought my pussy, parted her lips, caressed the clitoris, sank inside me. She bit down on my nipple with her ivory teeth and begged. He obeyed and nailed his fangs with such force that I thought he would rip it off, while tracing lines, circles, spirals with his fingers, in my sex, slowly, quickly, over and over, over and over, looking for the source that only Andres he knew how to find.
I pulled down his stretch-waist linen pants and stroked his large, hard, erect member, turning the wrist, rocking it up and down, down and up, slowly, quickly, over and over, over and over, as he continued to devour my nipple, and I looked at you in the eyes that shone wickedly, and at your hand, which caressed your cock mimicking his hand, with mine, until I started to moan, and he began to moan, and you started to moan and you You got up from the chair, and you came up to us, and you pulled my hair, and I accelerated the rhythm, and he accelerated the rhythm, and you accelerated the rhythm, and I burst into his hand like a flood that spilled down my thighs, by my knees, moistening the ground, and he ran into my hand, and you, in yours, in my belly, in my pubis, in my hand, in his hand, like three tributaries that feed the same river.
"You are my whore."
"I am your whore."
Autor: Anónimo