Kenny did not recognise the woman who entered. She was small and slender – a waif of a thing really – with the grey of age showing in her temples. She wore a tweed jacket over a plain white blouse and plainer black trousers, her flat shoes some fifty years out of date – older than she was, he was certain of that – and though she cast him a
‘I… I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m doing this. I shouldn’t, I really shouldn’t. I’m sorry.’ Already the man’s stammered apologies were becoming less sincere, and if the force with which he tore open the chest of Angel’s fishnet attire was anything to go by, he had no interest in stopping. She wanted to tell him to run, to escape while he still had the chance. Unfortunately for him,
Hearing the notification on his phone, Mr. Johnson stood up and mopped his sweaty brow with the back of his forearm. Taking a moment to catch his breath he surveyed the room as he crossed to the table his phone was charging on: just a few more finishing touches and it would be perfect. All the furniture was in position and after the tireless work he had put into the
Allowing her head to roll back, Casey groaned breathlessly as the head of Mason’s cock slammed into her P-spot again and again. His deep thrusts were threatening to tip her over the edge into a state of delirium, and combined with his firm grip jerking her she-cock it was all she could do to remain conscious. She loved how her tight, delicate body rocked with every thrust. It made her
Turning to face her captive, Natasha shivered with expectation. She had waited so long for this moment, and now it was here she could barely contain herself. The sight of the unfortunate man, bound tight to the table by roll upon roll of cling film until he could not move so much as a fingertip, sent thrills of excitement up her spine and set her she-cock twitching in her latex
‘Good morning, little boy,’ Mrs. Johnson smiled as Craig opened his eyes. She was laid out on the end of his pristine white bedsheets with a hungry look in her eye. Her pink stockings clung tightly to her slender legs, and she was wearing one of Mr. Johnson’s shirts – although to say she was wearing it might have been overstating it a little; it hung open to reveal her
Clearly the woman was disappointed in what she was seeing, and though he had only just stumbled from the fetid confines of the delivery truck – a place worse than any he could think of – her iron glare already made him wish he had stayed on board. She was encased almost head to toe in black latex, a tight corset pulling in her waist, with the only visible flesh
Craig was lounging in front of the TV screen, paying little attention to the crappy reality show blaring on as he scrolled through pictures of practically naked girls on his phone, when he was interrupted by a knock at the door. Hauling himself lazily up, he glanced at the clock on his wall: 11.37. Fucking twenty to midnight. Furious at the distraction, he shuffled into the hallway to answer it.
