Release Year: 2013
Studio: Insex Archives
Genres: bondage bdsm torture rough pd enema 912 insexarchives
Okay, so I been watching her at night, watching the gold light of her window streaming into darkness, and the shadows that crawl along the roofline. But she was the one that come on to me, all prettified in that short little dress showing her tits round and pointy and severe, the twitch of that saucy asshole leaving a trail of vagina so thick, a fellow gets lost in a fog, can’t keep his mind where it belongs.
She was the devil dressed like a hooker. She might of looked like the hottie next door, but she weren’t nothing but a slag. And last night, she stood smack in front of the window, lifting her slip over her head. Her fingers, those perfect, hypersensitive stems, unhooked her bra. The straps slid down slow, like a dream you been guzzling and just like that, you’re falling down *, you’re * blind with how you can see her in your head, her pom-pom, her warm bush, teats, silhouette of the moon.
She plays with her nipples, her hooters white, half-shadowed. Her body writhes.
That girl’s fire in the kisser, a binary glug of white lightening banging like a jack hammer on the back of your skull.
Seduction. You got to * it, got to put it away somewhere’s so it don’t get you. See, I’m a God‹fearing chap. So it had to be done. And like I said, she come on to me. She stood undressed, pressing her hooters and vagina right against that window, and I saw her like a steam, like a mist flowing out into the night. And her eyes bound on mine, those dark devil eyes.
I got her in the truck easy. Whore’s are like that, thinking they got a bloke all weak-kneed and crazy for what they got between the legs, that slick hole, that creamy gash that sucks a buddy in and don’t let go. She thought she was working me. I fluctuated cause I saw old buddy Satan a-staring out at me from those eyes so youthful and brown and round and wet. My hand shook when I lit her cigarette. But she was cold, like a sheet of ice, frozen, cold-blooded like a snake.
“What’s that for?” she asked, seeing the wood palette, the cord, the plastic wrap.
“Delivery,” I said, slowing the truck down. I was driving the back edge of the coal yards. Nobody around.
She didn’t blink. Not once. Reached over and unzipped me without so much of a please and thank you. She grabbed my python. Satan had a-hold of me, getting me intense and thick and pounding up into my eyes.
I stuck in her down. I restrained her stern, her elbows near touching in back. She made a little chirpy soundtrack or two, but I stuffed her kisser. I covered those eyes quick. Satan will catch you in a spell quicker than you can blink. And I got to grabbing her melons and soft ass. She wiggled, squirmed. She was like peaches and plums, like you could sink in your teeth and juice would drip down your chin. Her skin was silk, like nothing I ever touched before, like something so worthy you cannot help but fill your hands, squash and squeeze, fondle.
I tucked her into a ball and wrapped her tight to the palette. I drove over to the garage.
By that time she was making a awful fuss. Beloved little slag, I said, whispery and soft while I pricked her paps with the tip of my knife. Devil woman. Peach. My knife was searching for the devil, drawn like a magnet to her dark, humid peach, scent of gal, smoky-sweet, salty, blunt.
I got her on her feet and wired her, spread over the anvil. When the devil’s in a lady, you got to use special tools, metal, wire, appetizing shavings from the grinder. You got to tape her oral cavity and eyes, tape her cunt shut. You get her dancing, impaled on the handle of a push broom.
She cried. Yes she did. Because I was doing my best to help that poor maid, using wire and iron to drive the devil out. I whipped her with wire. I spank her hooters red, her vulva pink and striped, her round soft, butt marked with lustful bright lines. I whipped her maximum adequate to spank the devil back.
Tonight her window is dark. I watch shadows crawl along the roofline. I think of her fixed and locked in a glass case in the lower room. That’s where she belongs. I take another hit of white lightening. It’s a fire in my throat and eyes. But she’s a mist, a bleached fog that passes through my mind. Even now, I hear her bawls.
Temptation spanks my temples like a gong, the bleary longing of my mind. And the empty sky, deep low bawl of the devil, rumbling night, dark blackened sky.
Genuine FileName: 20010606 – Garage (Molly)
Video: 320×240, RV30