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My Hands Are Tied


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 (this contributor has such a unique writing style that you are sure to know who it is without me telling you.  I must make sure to give him credit for this marvelous piece of writing...TY to RE Knowlton III)

He took the nape of her neck close into his mouth and the sweat made him salivate beyond what he could ever know. His passion made him think of moments in backseats getting his cock sucked and parties where cum flew about faces like candy in the mouths of babes. The salt tickled his throat and made him think of men he had been with in days that had led to incestuous beauty amongst consenting adults and couples who took the time to be more than couples could ever wish to be.
She hiked the plaid skirt up half ways and was reminded that it really was just a black silk number with stockings that she pretended was plaid because it made her moist, wet, driving with passion from a yearning crotch gyrating with jugular motions of giggle and sexual giggle while her nipples grew hard and her panties fell damp with the dew of lust and desire. He grew harder and harder through he night as cocktails flew about like sexual prowess in the back seat of prom night fresh flesh and all that could press hard against a chest of a young lover wanting more.
He could feel himself grow against the denim of his jeans as he poked and fiddled and fondled away at the night of what could easily be as digestible as the hot cum of lovers against the faces and nipples of those who dared to take on the realm of what could be when clothes and passions were released, leading to the desires of flesh - the most desirable of all mediums and wants and needs - flesh.
To devour it all in a thigh licking , a slow caress of tongue to knee, to thigh with the flesh consuming a palette  of sexual consumption to the point that jizz leaks to extremities and makes one’s pants sticky and hot. From inner thigh, across the bone, and up to the gift … to feel the brush of lust against one’s face … to soak it up into a beard to taste later as a reminiscence of what was and what could ever be as the pussy dripped into his throat as he lapped and licked and cajoled and conjoined.
Her chest heaved out and she grasped at the top of her stockings held so tight against his licking points. He wished, dreamt of being in those stockings. To feel the sheer sexuality against his legs; to feel her against him pulling them down as she gave him head. His head in her mouth and swirled in such a girlish manner that lollipops made the world angry due to it’s jealousy. He giggled as her tongue ran up fast under his helmet and the sensitive shaft of serenity found pleasure in the tongue tickle. He grinned. She gulped. Both smiled even more as pre-cum ran into her gums and across her tongue and made here smile and want more with it’s sweet interest in her ecstasy.
He devoured her as if drink were never possible and his soul had embedded inside her. He took her in his mouth and she quivered, she shook. He his face was sweet, her pussy was beyond needed. He wanted her, he licked her up and made her scream with his tongue flick and sucking and being. He consumed her, he made her his in some sort of crotch vampirism.
She heaved and felt the gush go through, wet and nasty against his face. She dreamt of men in her, deep inside; in her ass, in her hole. She dreamt hard and rode hard on this image; tasting him against her was inside her as she cu on his face; she blew it all over him, his beard; it was left dripping from his chin as he smiled.
She wanted more, yet needed nothing as she grinned and exhaled hard with mined passion and exhaustion. She stood tall and slid down upon him , taking him into her with unknown splendor and joy that only could be fought within her tear of being a whore and good girl. She knew what it was, she felt it, she knew what it was to push it inside her - to get off.  As she slid it into her cavity of lust she released only a whimper of pain that soon would rejoice in lust. She knew him and felt it as one with her as she took him inside.
As the rocking turned to passion to take in something beyond what she was. He wanted her to move, to be her, screaming out her desires in a night that would make her cry. She wanted so bad to be her as she swallowed cum and grinned. She would bruise her asshole in the abuse of pleasure found in pounding her so hard that she was her. She came; she greased him.
He laid down and made himself think he was far more important than he was to really be. He smiled none the less as his fluid caked on her face and trickled down to her nipples making them gleam in an opaque summer light.
His chest heaved with satisfaction; she wanted it deeper and longer, but he would never know …

Posted by Desiree at 8:44 PM - 2 Comments   Add a Comment  
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Author: Desiree
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