Peared Pus
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Fettered to a iron bed, her immense steel collar delves into her perfect chin. Her pretty pastel panties, scalloped at the edge, are glimpsed in the shadows inbetween her thighs. And as he kittles and lashes her, two tortures simultaneously, its clear. The primacy of Her in his mind. A humping machine is elevated into position. Embedded in iron and machine, she comes. Is it his enthusiasm that drives him to such extraordinary means? Unbridled want? Desperation? Or does he so dread this animal, that he keeps her clasped in iron that cannot want, cannot feel, cannot love, cannot lose? Shes locked in the fiddle thats shackled to a iron ankle spreader. Metal gag against her fragile lips. She is dismayed by metal, but still, shes powerful, dont you think? Because shes lovely. You cant stop thinking about her skin, her breasts, her ass, her smell. Even from where you sit viewing her on your screen, you smell her, dont you? He crops her. He manages everything. He manages nothing. The Pear gag slides inwards her. He turns the key to lock it in place. Its a work of art, the Pear. A sophisticated mechanism. Like her. Maybe thats what he thinks. That its as elementary as a twist of the key, relaxing her power over him. So he experiences the softcore art of self-deception. The Pear gag heads in, packing her slit that empty space, that vacuum, that everything and nothing place where even the gods stumble. The treat of the Pear gag is turned. Whose forearm turns the key? Whose desire? Whose despair? The Pear gag is fellated inward. Clamps bite into her nipples. And her assets grimaces in pleasure. She comes. Her fingers bend, as if beckoning.
Fettered to a iron bed, her immense steel collar delves into her perfect chin. Her pretty pastel panties, scalloped at the edge, are glimpsed in the shadows inbetween her thighs. And as he kittles and lashes her, two tortures simultaneously, its clear. The primacy of Her in his mind. A humping machine is elevated into position. Embedded in iron and machine, she comes. Is it his enthusiasm that drives him to such extraordinary means? Unbridled want? Desperation? Or does he so dread this animal, that he keeps her clasped in iron that cannot want, cannot feel, cannot love, cannot lose? Shes locked in the fiddle thats shackled to a iron ankle spreader. Metal gag against her fragile lips. She is dismayed by metal, but still, shes powerful, dont you think? Because shes lovely. You cant stop thinking about her skin, her breasts, her ass, her smell. Even from where you sit viewing her on your screen, you smell her, dont you? He crops her. He manages everything. He manages nothing. The Pear gag slides inwards her. He turns the key to lock it in place. Its a work of art, the Pear. A sophisticated mechanism. Like her. Maybe thats what he thinks. That its as elementary as a twist of the key, relaxing her power over him. So he experiences the softcore art of self-deception. The Pear gag heads in, packing her slit that empty space, that vacuum, that everything and nothing place where even the gods stumble. The treat of the Pear gag is turned. Whose forearm turns the key? Whose desire? Whose despair? The Pear gag is fellated inward. Clamps bite into her nipples. And her assets grimaces in pleasure. She comes. Her fingers bend, as if beckoning.
Added: 2014-07-02 • Views: 18 • Duration: 30:22
Categories: BDSM
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