Small Penis Imlive's Profile

Languages: español, Ingles

Location: quebec,canada

Interested In: Women, Men, Couples, Trans

Small Penis Imlive - She and a hot brunette.

If you get into a fight with them, The walk out is invariably loners. I do this for hours on end. You begin to learn to respect women when you realize they can get mad at you just for being honest. My ex has the better part of 70, and is a social worker by trade. She and her friend are both very beautiful, but a lesbian luv for some reason gets even hotter and wetter. Then, there are the strippers. They walk around like they own the place, making suggestions on what men to fuck, and offering to share the blows. Guys think it's just normal human curiosity, but the strippers know better. If the poor guy can't get laid, the women will just fuck his ass instead. I could see why a lady like Small Penis Imlive wanted to be dominated. She knew she'd be loved by many a stud in her class, but wanted to be owned by such a strong man, because that's what she really wanted. Oh, how the lesbians loved their men, and how they were so ready to get rough with me. There are literally no restrictions. You can treat a woman like an object for your pleasure. There is no regard for her wishes, as long as she's there. You can fuck her like an animal, as long as you don't even bother her.

And don't even think about pleasing her, that just makes you a dick. She has a very specific set of needs, and if fulfilled, she's a lesbian princess. So, what are the strippers up to now? Well, I had the perfect birthday present for them. A vintage whip, brand new in brand new condition. I took the old feathers out of the gifts, and they were beautiful, red and black with 82" of shiny black and red wings. The handle was hard and a hundred red nails dragged over the top of the cover. Oh, how I loved the nightmares these gave. I was even given one to stroke. I was completely helpless, in bondage to my new masters. I was begging them to leave me alone for a while, to come to the big bedroom and satisfy my hunger for sexual excitement. I wasn't about to disobey these anymore. They took me to the big room, and handcuffed me to the headboard. My hands were cuffed together in front of my face, and my arms were pulled behind my back, so I couldn't move even if they wanted to. I was stomped on, and a thick paddle was pushed against my wet lips, making me flinch. It was very uncomfortable, but very erotic nonetheless. A gay man approached me, and I hugged him, and said I'd do whatever he wanted, but I was going to be his girlfriend and I'd love it. He kissed me on the cheek, and said he wanted to explore that front, too.

It was the first time we've spoken, and the tone of our conversations was beginning to be playful. I enjoyed his touch, and I was enjoying his honesty. That night, I was completely submissive. I was his plaything, his plaything in the way he wanted me to be. I ate his body, I drank his fluids, I moved easily within his limits. I was his, totally. His touch was a fountain, its warm inner walls touching the skin and the thighs and the knees of my master. I was a slut, a whore, and I loved it. I was addicted to the chemical make-up that I'd developed, and I wore nearly every day. Sometimes I was naked and shaved, and that made me look younger. I was addicted to the feeling of power that came from being able to move, to talk to people, to do whatever I wanted without worrying about my relationships, because of the closeness that those feelings had. I was drawn to open myself up, to reveal who I was, to share secrets that I never cared to tell anyone. I was drawn to be vulnerable, hiding who I was beneath all the clothing I wore. It took a lot of courage for me to come out as bi to my straight dominant parents. Most people thought I was weird, or strange, or unlike any other person my age. My parents were the typical middle-class American family..

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