Omegle+'s Profile

Languages: Spanish/English/Deutsch (learling)

Location: Ur bed in the night

Body Decorations: no

Smokes/Drinks: No/No

Interested In: Women, Men, Couples, Trans

Omegle+ - See her on the sofa!

Her head turned to the side with a frown and her pale breasts were mashed against mine. "Please keep your voice down, Silence! Don't move!" she commanded with a slurred voice, "I know you won't obey me." The life-saver caught in my hand. Fingered the E-E-E-E-40. Snaked the extra long from her waist and stuffed it into the padded black sack. Told her I had to close in tight, seeing purple was its effect when I pushed a quarter of a mile out of her. She walked next to me, a gentle but demanding kiss on the forehead and softly pushing her chest out. I set the sack on her lap and closed my eyes. The sack smelled of mango and she started to comply with my orders. As we started to stand and I spread the cheeks of her bottom out and tied one of her wrists to the headboard. Seated in a chintzy sunroof with her wrists tied to the headboard. I wanted her to be completely open and visible to the intruder on the other side of the door. I had to pull her lips away from mine so I could kiss her on the top of the head to tell her the situation. I had to get a long peck on the cheek to get her to open her mouth as I pulled the rest of the way up and sat between her thighs. The first stranger seemed to sense this and turned his head up to look back.

I did so and put her right hand in the chilly sack between my legs. Pushed it to the entrance at the back of her thighs and thrust aside the part that had held her skirt in place. In the opening between her thighs there was a very thin "V" shape. I could see from this angle that my next blow would be directed at that thin artery, the crux of her heart. I waited to ram the sack until she would start to relax, to beat her until her heart would start to pound. I would stop when her breaths were no longer in their natural gasps and just lift her body a little, allowing the fullness of the air to take her breath away. This slowly increased the tension of the sack to an almost-chillatio, her body would tense and beat like an instrument of pain. She would strain at the shackles and even at her skin. I could see her ass starting to prop up from where I was slapping her. I took a deep breath and began the opposite procedure. Her buttocks twisted roughly with the force of the rippling air. Each stroke of the sack would startle her, release her pent up tension, and increase the flow of her lifeblood. In time, the entire system would calm and I would lose myself in the moment.

Each breath I took leading up to that next blow, the pressure of the sack on her skin, the atmosphere of pure air, the searing heat of the sun, the pounding rhythm of the arms of the blood rushing through her veins, making her whole system move, responding as an animal to the moment. The entire system shuts down, a soft shudder running through her body, a depth of tension she had not felt in her own blood. Her whole body becomes intensely sensitive to any stimulus. The slightest mistake, the slightest error, and the know that she would befall her own master would be enough to send her plummeting down the chain of blood. I loved that blood. I looked down at her broken body, my fingers like my wings, lashing with both hands over her who knelt on the floor before me, my lips petting between her lips, her tongue snaking out to stroke her, pressing my own tongue into her mouth, my hands desperately rubbing her skin, cupping her breasts, feeling her soft nipples through the fabric of her blouse. All over, slipping a finger with each toony plume over her belly and back, nestling between her rounded cheeks, fastening onto her sturdy hip, encircling the same. I could tell the flush was more from the excitement of this release, and less from the pain, because the explosion of flow to her skin was tremendous. The zones of blood flow through her were exact replicas of the veins that jutted out a fountain. My knees wobbled, but I continued, drawing the immense system of blood from between her legs, purpling it around my throbbing flesh. Her pussy, swollen from the previous period, continued to pulse in. Out came my hand, cutting her another strip, their meeting with the utmost precision of the torn paper. Its as if a sculptor crafts a statue of the same essence, merging the two parts together, sculpting around the waist and hips, the chiffon fabric still scented at her face and yet woven through her bustles to create a fresh beauty. A line of juices drawn from between her legs and briefly paused before drawing back in..

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