Funny The whippings are for real this time. Porn Pics

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Bound, teased and punished she makes naughty promises.

He'd been sold a pithy freedom, then weighted beneath the burden of responsibility to another-shackled to a weaker wife and in-laws, forced to do menial chores and be in bed by a reasonable hour.

And what of those who'd signed the contract in blood, only to discover they'd no love for women at all? Bludgeoned by the dictates of religion, the latent homosexuals pledging servitude to a life they could never truly live. No less gruesome than the black and white horror movie that flickered on the bar's television screen.

It was a surprise when he slid his fingers between mine. He was dressed as Humphrey Bogart. He was a fag who'd had the good fortune of knowing what he was at puberty and never looking back. He was mustached-older by the time I entered his world-and in possession of the thickest black eyebrows I'd ever seen. His wrinkles had been filled in with a black eye pencil to make them more expressive. His arms wore a black coat of fur, and I knew he was strong the moment he grabbed me.

We made our way past the sheets and spooks and queer queens. I turned my back to him in the bathroom so he could press against me, to shove me against the wall. My body was florid and aching, and he breathed hotly into my neck.

"Don't ever forget this night," he hissed. How would I? I was a wilting virgin.

The catch unsnapped from the front of my jeans and he dragged them down over my butt, exposing my pale hot flesh. I breathed deeply, feeling crushed by his weight and the gauze bandages wrapped around my tits meant to hide them. He ought have been a vampire the way he bit at my neck, and then he reached past me to jab at the liquid soap dispenser. A blue gel spat into his palm until overflowing, and he drew back, shoving his hand between us.

I gasped at the cool sensation slithering down the crack of my ass, then a finger-the first ever-as it pushed to enter me. He kissed me, his free hand clinging tighter as he misinterpreted my rectum's natural response to invasion.

"You'll be okay," he said gently. I believed him and did my best to relax, waiting, fearful and full of want. He plumbed me with his finger and I listened to his breathing grow heavy and moist. His Bogey hat fell to the floor, but I didn't care. I felt dizzy, unable to draw a complete breath. No sooner had I felt his finger's retreat that I experienced the first stab of real pain. It was the moment I began to live-something akin to a Christian's being born again-biting my lip and crying through the bitter sting of soap and stretching. His cock began to fill me and I gazed wide-eyed into the cobweb-covered bathroom mirror, beholding with awe his semi-holy expression of pure innocence, and perhaps, yes, holiday gratitude.

Reality came crashing back when he placed his hands at my hips and thrust. Forced forward to squint, clench my teeth and clutch at the edges of the dirty sink, I was fucked hard and without mercy. Steadying myself, I jabbed a hand down to my crotch, stabbing a pair of fingers into an already sodden cunt. A fire rippled through my thighs as he slammed against me. The pressure was tremendous. Our moans melded-me growling as he growled, groaning as he gritted his teeth and opened his mouth.

When he came, he told me. I visualized the spurting weapon ejecting deep within my bowels as he shook and whimpered. I couldn't even remember how it'd begun, now so readily colliding with its feverish climax. Yes, a fucking miracle, and had I come with him, it just might have been enough.

Later, as I lay draped across a loveseat in the back of the bar, inebriated and listening to the kissing, touching ghosts, I was overcome by a revolting body. My own. I shivered and clung to myself. Playing a man had taken its toll. I was Cinderella's wet dream, and midnight was nearing.

A man came to me in a violent dream.