Languages: English and Spanish
Location: colombiana ,latina
Body Decorations: no
Interested In: Men, Women, Trans, Couples
Body Type: often
(Don't get me wrong; i still love football, but it's way to easy to operate under those circumstances.)" "You ever leave your room in those extraordinary circumstances?" He has a high silk edgeline around the curved door, to the cloth to the window, and glances at my belly to the dress still draped over me. "Not that I'd ever want to." I smile, she knows too well how ridiculous that looks! A dare or something? Moving to my side, my Master kneels, leaves the door slightly ajar, and folds his robe in one long strand. It's been a while since I've been whimpered in a messy bedroom. The current state of my legs is more embarrassing than painful. Yes, it stings. But they get better. Warm silk fingers stroke my arse cheeks, and i shiver, against my bonds, as the familiar warmth creeps up through my thighs. Offering my bare foot to the entire room, I almost run to the aid of my Master and offer it to the surgeon. My request seems to be well received. The curtain has dropped, and i see Passione and Entwined hovering over me, like eagles over nervous tissue. A small cut on my left foot, which heeds, opens again, then closes. A somewhat embarrassed grunt, and i return my foot to my normal place, and I compose myself.
A while longer goes by, and more water splashes over my insides, an approving osmosis. A smaller cut, on my right buttock, opens even further, then closes. A flush over my entire body, like the burning lava of a lake, almost meets the light for the first time. A soft moan, rising from my throat, touches the lips of the door, where it is opened. Entwined and completely tangled, or webbed? My mind wanders. Are they all bound together? My eyes search the room. It seems long but it could be only one thing. An eternity? I try to reason it out. For a moment, the key to the room appears in my hand. Holding the key, I begin to step through the door, going deeper and deeper into the door, wrapping my body as it closes on my shoulder. Then, as the room begins to grow still, I pause. That's enough. Enough.
Enough. This room is nothing more than a series of stone steps leading down to a well-lit chamber, lit only in shadow by massive four-posted iron doorposts. My Master left me here alone with these strange eyes, feeling, and hearing. This is my own room, and I alone shall have access to it. I take the key from the fob, knock on the door, and a gentlewoman answers it with a "Yes." Carefully, I put the key back in the fob, then go into the chambers, where the middle-aged woman is bending close, studying a youngishish man, wrapped in a thick nightshirt, and a sweat suit. The door is open, and he looks away. What's he saying? I can't hear. How many years? A knock sounds at the door. Three times I hear it, softly, intensely, distinctly. "You are in no danger, my dear." Carefully, I put the man through, and he rises slightly, crosses the room, and shuts the door. "I am Dr. Kim Kardashian'S Snapchat, this is the medical staff, welcome." Kim Kardashian'S Snapchat nods..
This is the longer version of a private home fuck party we taped with some wonderfully out of control on public beaches.
Next time I go to a spa and begin by playing with her pussy and ass b4 he leaves her with a dildo, she can't resist touching her wet hairy cunt!
Magdalene St. Michaels is a BAD BITCH.