Has to have. His rope was messy. In stark contrasts to the smooth outline of the sublime, architectural curves of her body, the lines pressing her into that shape are crude. Functional. Different kinds of rope. Some cotton. Some acrylic. Some jute. Immaterial materials. Her wrists bound to the table legs at one end, and long, long loops passing around and across the back analcreampie of her neck, fixing her rigidly. Then, her knees tied in such a way, wide apart, that she was compelled to offer herself. Occasionally he paused from his ministration, and added some more lengths. He stood back, critically appraising his own creation, and where her body hadn’t quite bent to the conception of his will, he bound it in such a way that he was happier. A topiarist, clipping and wiring branches to compel that perfect unnaturally natural form, for the admiration of the visitors to a garden. Only this was for him, alone. Crossing the room, the light is at its most dim, but its warmth has increased, coincidentally, so far from the open fridge. She stands in front of the indian fruit bowl, fingers running over smooth skin. Tears analfuck picked up the pigment from her makeup- that he’d had to stipulate, out of irritated necessity, should not be waterproof- and rivulets of her teary mascara and snot adorning his cock rewarded him. Returning analfucking to the other end of the table, he sits, and folds his cuffs half-way up his forearms. Loosening rope, randomly yet with patience, he clasps his fingers, and presses his palms into the small of her back. She opens. Inhaling, millimetres from her, her scent changes the colour of his blood. Calm and methodical movements he’d shown whilst tying, and torturing her, became quicker and less precise. Sweet. Salty. Incontrovertibly human. Mammalian. A long-forgotten attractant, but no less potent. Greedy and insistent, he forces himself to be more deliberate and calm. Finger tips provoke a plaintiff analsex noise from her throat as they open her further. sex He inhales again. And pushes his face into her. Imprecise at first, he’s simply satisfying a need. It’s not elegant. But it doesn’t need to be. This is for him. Her noises: louder. Less coherent. Her movements, such as her shitty-but-effective straight-rope-mess will permit her- more wriggly. Why does her brain want to get away from this source of undoubted pleasure, albeit inflicted as opposed to nurtured onto her? Especially analcreampie those envious and curious gleams in analsex those girls eyes. Her twat squeezed around me. Massaged me I groaned, the pleasure spilling down my cock to my cunt. “We're being followed,” I growled. My wife hasn’t swallowed in ages, so I know to warn her, analfucking so she can suck my balls while I jerk off to analfuck finish. I don’t get the eye contact I was hoping for. I was glad that we were all sat down so that our pussies weren’t on display. As the first spurt left me, she must have felt it, as she stopped and sex held our pelvises together as I let loose with five more jets. Girls are going to love your cock." Beth begged as she dropped her head down and kissed Susan's feet. "When we're done here, go to your computer and type up a document indian describing this activity in as much detail as possible, and confess to it." “OK, like I said, I don’t want to hurt anybody.