Busty Galleries - The Insider Secret On Club Seventeen Uncovered

Window dressing It's been several weeks since you were summoned. Summoned or trapped? Smirking you giggle. If this is trapped bring more bait. Because you'd gladly do it again. The weeks have all been full of Erotic adventures. Some days have a routine. You wake and are told what to wear. Sometimes a suit, an innocent sundress, or just like a street walker but most times nothing. You spent several days nude in this house. Friends of him would come by and you'd be made to be objectified while they did business. Some days are far from routine. Though the collar has always been there. Two inches thick it sits firmly around your neck. Locked in place but no seams. And the runes etched on it glow occasionally now. Collar still firmly secured somehow capturing your energy in a way that's unclear. Cross-linking of energy between you and this man has been entertaining. If released you think you'll let him live. For a bit. You walk through the hall to the stairs, nude again. The air brushing your sensitive skin. You feel your full bottom seductively ripple with each step. Your flame hair cascades around your small form-and your horns almost tingle with anticipation. But tonight something different has been planned. You're not quite sure what. You were told to go to the Master closet after dinner. This will be the first time you've been in there. All various types of clothing goodies of come out of this room that fit your small frame yet robust bust. You're mildly interested to see what's inside. You suspect there's a tailor In there because the fits are so amazing. Yes, you're certain of it. A tailor just lives in the master closet. And he's a clothing wizard. Except the occasional bra-and all the Hell be damned swimwear, the tops are always too small. Forcing your full breasts to fall out chronically. If your forced to wear them for the jacuzzi they should fit. You spend too much time trying to shelve yourself back in. You resign yourself to have a chat about swimwear with this little closet living tailor wizard once you meet him. Just one top that fits. It's not asking too much. Mortals-a creative one comes along once in a while. Up the stairs to the third floor and down the hall. The simple white walls and broad windows of this modern style house are intriguing. The structure basically affords only limited privacy. Any peeping Tom with terrible eyesight and coke bottle glasses could see through to numerous areas. Which is a thought that actually excites you. Slowly you wonder just how many times you've been watched by passerby's. Each evening you're taken and "charged up" in rooms where all the lights are on and none of the drapes are drawn. Someone must have seen at some point. And slowly you start to feel the need building yet again. It's not hard to awaken and seems to only get easier as this dynamic goes on. There is always a slow smolder deep in your loins, a constant reminder that you're not of this world. That smolder has been stoked into a fiery burn so many times over the past weeks it almost rages into five alarm fire at the most delicate caress. But the sex has been anything but delicate. Rutting like a bitch in heat more like it, you think to yourself. You recall the other evening when you lost yourself during an intense exchange only to wake confused and covered in cum with a woman next to you, passed out. She had dark hair, flawless skin, lean toned form and was also-covered in seamen. You were both just used like toys. Flashes of facing her from across the room while you both bent over, her heavy breasts swinging rhythmically, dance through your mind. But for how long and how many times? Unsure. Worried you wonder if This man, whoever he is, learned from that. And knows you don't always need direct contact to feed. How frustrating if he knew. Your mind flashes back to them you were dressed in yoga gear and he-your thighs tremble and you steady yourself on the wall. Best to think of that later. At the end of the hall you stop at the threshold to the master suite. Even though the door is open you wait for a moment. Just like you've been taught you knock twice on the door trim. "Come over here. Just on your right." A cheerful voice echoes around a corner. "And what if I don't want to? What if I'm bored of you and your machinations." You quip lightly. Smile dancing over your lips. A familiar dirty blond topped head with short cropped hair leans out around the corner. Shirtless and in jeans. Blue eyes fierce and playful. He squints thoughtfully, observant as his eyes pass over your body. Your form visually devoured and you note the dilation in his pupils as excitement strikes his libido. "Hmmm-then why are you wet?" He grins evilly and winks. Briefly you catch his scent. Exhilarating. You realize you are excited enough to potentially glisten. Your hand unconsciously strays low-and-yes. It's true. You roll your eyes. Betrayed by your own body-Again-Today. Fuck. Well that's exactly what you want really. He extends his hand. "Come, stop screwing around. I have plans for you this evening." You move smoothly forward-ensuring that your full breasts jiggle subtilely. And you're again rewarded with a glance down and a slight flaring of his nostrils. Who really has control here you think to yourself. You take his hand and he firmly guides you into the closet. It. Is. Enormous. Easily the size of the master bedroom. Maybe fifteen feet by fifteen feet. Done in dark walnut. With bright oak floors. In the center sits a leather topped ottoman with drawers in the base. Socks and stockings most likely. One wall lined with drawers at the bottom and cabinets at the top. Underwear and every day cloths? You wonder to yourself. Directly across are the clothes racks. Most sections staged to support tops and matching skirts or pants. The other half of that wall set with one long pole set high. And the dresses that hang off of it are limitless. Between those two walls sits shelves at a slight angle down with a lip at the end. And shoes. All shoes on that wall. Ranging from thrashed sneakers to combat boots to hooker heels to dance slippers. Across from that wall-more shoes again. Shoemagedden has arrived and your feet are ready. You feel faint. Composing yourself-steady your breath. This next sentence must be flawless said "Well Sir-" Pointing generally to a dress. "It's not your color but I'm sure you look lovely in it. As long as you don't wear those shoes." Wry smirks abound. He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. "Mine is there." And across the entry to the master you see another closer, much smaller. Set with suits, jeans, sneakers dress shoes and tshirts with cartoon and video game characters. Nerd. You grin. You wink and follow with "Well I can be very accepting. No need to lie." Then a brief pause and "So where is the tailor?" You get a glance and hear "Shop across town. How did you know? And you expected him to be in here?" Eyes dancing you reply "These are not easy to match with cloths for my frame." And your hands come up to cup your full amazing breasts. Pushing them towards him you say "Impossible, really." Again he stares. His hands flex involuntarily and he steps closer. "You're only ensuring torment this evening." And a smirk. "Well it's not unreasonable to be honest." You pout. "And I still think there's a tailor in here." Eyebrow raised he responds "What, like a tiny elf tailor?" You scoff and make a dismissive gesture. "Don't be ludicrous. Gnome, clearly. Elves only do shoes." With a flat stare right into your eyes he gestures, spreading both arms indicating the two walls holding the Shoepocolypse of 2015. Then raises an eyebrow again. You nod. "Fair enough." And smile inwardly. "Well I need to talk to him regardless." A questioning glance prompts you further. "About the swimsuits." And more puzzlement from him. Clearly he's not aware. "The tops, they don't fit. None of them have. He gets everything else right except the occasional bra and every swimsuit. I think it's the material. It confuses him." A wicked grin, the kind found only in Hell, cross his face. Smoothly his deep voice rolls out "No. They are all exactly the correct size." And your mind flashes back. Every time a thin string just gets too uncomfortable you're forced to adjust or you're stuffing yourself back in or have just given up and let your luscious curves do as they will. He's been quietly observing. Pervert. And then your pussy throbs. Now quiet. He turns to you again. Squaring himself with you. The playfulness giving way to intensity. You're starting to recognize this look. Training sets in and you cast your eyes down. "Two." He says and points to the ottoman. Poses. You've been taught sixteen. You step up on top of the ottoman. The material isn't cushy and is firm enough to easily let you keep balance. Standing straight up, feet apart, even with your shoulders. Shoulders pulled back and hands clasped to forearms behind your back. You push the small of your back forward slightly rolling your hips and lifting your ass. Your chin lifted so that your lower jawline is even with the floor. Your breasts jut forward incredibly accentuated by the pose. He walks around inspecting you. Your eyes are almost even on this ottoman. But you look straight. Then you see him remove a black marker from his jeans. The cap comes off. "I'm going write on you. Then pick out some clothes. You'll dress, choose your makeup to fit the outfit, and meet me in the front living room." He says quietly. You just nod. And get hotter. Your skin tingles a bit. This writing hasn't been done yet. What will it say? Only humiliating things you secretly hope as he approaches the ottoman-and your bare form-while removing the cap. Your nipples harden. "Then we'll start there." He shrugs and brings the pen up to your right breast. Writing firmly. You start slightly at the sensation. Without hesitation the pen moves back his free hand comes around and smacks your full ass hard. Sending waves of pain and pleasure into your body. "Sit still. This needs to be legible." Then the left. Across your chest over your sternum. Across the lowest part of your abdomen, and just across your mound. Then your right thigh-but not the left. He shifts behind you and says "Hands forward." And you move your hands to the tops of your thighs. And begins to write across your ass. That smolder before? That built into a fire? It's raging through you. The heat is unbearable. Your nipples are so erect they almost hurt. Your inner thighs feel like they been taught all day. And your pussy-deep at the base of your canal-throbs hard. You can occasionally feel your pulse beat through lower lips. He steps away to read and quietly nods. Then transitions to the various wardrobes. Out of the corner of your eye you sense he's selecting things and placing them on the ottoman. The only space you can see clearly are the racks. Which he finally crosses to and pulls down a black pleated mid thigh length skirt and slightly torn low cut white halter top. "All set out. When I leave dress, makeup, and come to the living room." You nod and stand rigid while he walks out. Sure that he's gone you look down. Clear bold writing stands out over your body. You step down and quickly walk to the mirror-then curse. All the writing is reversed. You read backwards: Across your chest - Pleasure toy. Right breast - Again. Three Days. Left breast - Cum 4 Me. Across ass - Spanked. Hard. Right thigh - Enjoy yourself. Very low abdomen - Pounded each day. Over pussy - Roughly. Your knees weaken slightly and your mind rushes with excitement. If any stranger saw this, read it-so delightful. Well too bad it gets covered with clothes. Walking to the ottoman you begin to dress. No underwear, you applaud. First the socks then. Thin black and white horizontal stripes that come just above the knees. But don't cover the writing on your thigh. The words "Enjoy yourself" are still clear. You pick up the skirt to step into and realize it's zipper is on the side and runs the full length. Some designer bullshit. What a pain you mutter as you struggle to zip the skirt together while holding it up. Finally. Looking back at the mirror the words are visually truncated down to "-self" just peeking out the bottom. No words above your pussy show. The skirt comes up just below your navel. So you hike it down till half of the words "Pounded each day." And now just the letter "F" is visible on your thigh. Your beautiful round full bottom prevents the skirt from going lower. Twisting, nothing shows from your backside. You pout. On goes the halter top. Deep sunset colored hair spilling over your shoulders. Looking in the mirror you realize "Pleasure toy" is clearly visible. Like a bright black beacon on your flawless alabaster skin. But the writing on your breasts is hidden unless someone gets your top wet. No shoes. But calve high boots. The soles of which are probably two inches thick. Black leather with glinty silver laces. They take a bit to get on. But the weight is satisfying and you stomp about a bit. You stomp out, down the hall, rewarded with heavy echoes of each step, and into the bathroom. The skirt swishes and you feel the air caress your thighs and bare vulnerable pussy. Your tits slightly sway back and forth with the trademarked succubi double bounce that can fill men's pants with seamen with just a look-and can often push straight women to question their orientation-or more. Stepping in you look through the array of makeup options. Make decisions. And start. Horns are perfect. Black eyelids. Over dark. No need to do your lashes too much. Deep blood red lipstick and a light complimentary foundation. You lean back to check. The only color on you is the molten red hair and the deep full burning lips. Hopefully it will streak across a thick hard cock tonight. Then you see the words across your chest and your breath tightens. Unconsciously you've filled that exact statement to the letter for weeks. And you melt a bit with excitement. Composing yourself you fluff your hair once then head out and down to the front living room on the second floor. Storm trooper like footfalls and the soft jingle of buckles announce your entrance. It's a little dim. Mostly candles. But you make out his silhouette. By the front windows. This room is large. Easily twenty five feet by twenty five feet. And two story ceilings. Fireplace on side and large sofa opposite-that you've been tied to multiple times. The front is all sliding glass doors and windows. The doors open to create a fully indoor outdoor room. With large one story glass windows above. The doors are wide open now and a breeze flows in. Out front-a small privacy yard but the fence and bushes don't obstruct the view to the second floor. And maybe five or six yards away-the sidewalk. "Nice." You hear a breathy whisper as you walk up. Quirky smile in place you say "Glad it worked out. Some jerk made me wear cloths." And slow pause as you note a strange-stool or no-bench like thing right by the front opening. "So are we going out?" You ask hopefully as you think back to the time he groped you through two full sets of that garage band while in that packed bar. Again that raging fire burns brighter. "No. We are staying in-kind of." And he moves over to the sofa and picks up several things you can't quite make out. Walking to the bench he waves you over. Confidently you stride to him, quietly curious and say "Look, I'm happy to take a break but it seems like a waste to keep all this indoors." As you place your fits on your hips and push your breasts towards him. Chuckling he says "Well first, your just a toy for pleasure." Pointing to your chest. "You don't get any say. So if I want to keep you to myself for a night I will. And let's be honest, you'd be happy to see what was planned out. Second, I'm not exactly keeping you to myself." And while you can't clearly see the smile you can hear it. And you know it's evil. That toe curling kind of evil. He then walks up to you-his scent fills your nose and you get a little woozy again. Bringing forward a ball gag. Well-again a waste. No oral tonight. Obediently you open your mouth. And the large ball goes in. You full lips wrap around it. Carefully your radiant blazing red hair is pulled up and the leather straps are snaked back behind your head and buckled in place. "Turn your back to me." And you do. Your arms are guided behind you by his hands. Leather sleeves are slid up each of your arms and a buckle clasps their leather leads together just below your neck. Several inches above the writing. He guides you next to the bench and stops you. Blinking doefully at him you thrust your shoulders back. Sending a bounce through your chest. His breath gets heavy. Just what you'd hoped. Hands come up to your thighs as he leans in placing his mouth to your ear. His amazing smell overpowers you and the wildfire in you rages. Whispering he says "Next to you is a sybian. It's a machine that you'll be mounted on and secured to for the evening. I'll be on the sofa with the controls and will probably do some work and write for the night. You'll be glued to this machine. NOT cumming your brains out. But instead forced to sit and whimper softly hoping that I'll hear you and let you find some release." Your eyes go wide slightly. This is crap. A night of orgasm edging from sitting on a bench? You stamp your foot and groan while rolling your eyes. He can go eat a dick for all you care. You're going to get fucked-just like it says on your pussy-and the wetness starts to get hard to ignore. Maybe it was the foot stamping or the muffled groan but he didn't like something just now. Quickly you're pushed to your knees and bent over the sybian with your ass in the air. The bench is soft and clearly padded. But you feel a metal ring under the right side of your waist. To your left you feel the end of a rubber ridge-slick with lube. Your skirt flies up and over your back as a firm voice says "What do disobedient sluts get?" You flinch and whimper. Sadly and resigned you try to whimper out the word "Spanked." But all it sounds like is "Smmbd". "What did you say slut?" You whimper and roll your ass high into the air. The only way you can clearly communicate what you meant-and give it a firm curvy wiggle. "Yes." And with that his hand cracks against the most glorious ass on the planet sending waves of pain and pleasure pulse through you. "Count nine more, Fuck Toy." You nod vigorously and muffle out mangled numbers from behind the gag as he smacks each cheek in rotation. One, two, three, four and five aren't so bad. But six-the third strike to your right cheek stings-then seven the same sting on your left. Eight on your right is rough and the same for its mate. But nine and ten? You're certain you teared up a bit. Just like the writing states. Breathing heavily you slowly relax. Well that's over. But you feel his coursing hardon through his jeans-pressing into your thigh. If you're careful and subtle tonight maybe you can still get what you want. Inconspicuously you wiggle your bottom as if trying to shake off the sting while you force labored breaths out your nose-also forcing your bare thigh to rub against his manhood-and you are rewarded with a gasp. Slowly he stands up. Then takes your shoulders and guides you up till you eventually stand. He guides your feet to step over the bench, straddling it. "Take half a step back and kneel down." You lower yourself to your knees with his help. The floor below them is padded and comfortable. You feel leather grips being set into place on your ankles and then your knees are clasped in against the machine. "Sit." As you lower your pussy you feel a surprise. His hand. It's there against your pussy guiding you. All your excitement leaking all over him. Good you think. No one can resist once your juices touch them. Pretending to be awkward you bump into his hand a few more times as you go lower but finally you feel a plastic phallus pushing at your opening and pause. That plastic ridge was just the end it must ride up into this. "Sit" he barks out and you startle the enough to press this four inch phallus into you-sighing with relief as it goes. He steps behind you and takes the rings of the leather sleeves pulling your shoulders back and arms behind you-locking them to something. Breasts fully pushed out and slick plastics stud seated inside you you whimper and try to lock eyes with him. But he stays behind you. Then walks away over to the sofa and sits down. Looking forward you see the sidewalk. Clearly. People don't go by often and it is late in the evening. Plus it's abnormally dim inside. So risk here is low. But the idea of being seen-it gets you- Your hips start to roll and you don't even realize it. You're fucking the shallow phallus. Your clit can almost grind into the front of the ridge. But with your arms pulled back you can't quite make contact. You try anyway. Rolling harder. Twisting slightly. Almost have it. Any brush against you can get. You pant through your nose. Half frustration, half exertion. Almost-you grind-almost-you grind-you feel your ass jiggle and your tits sway. You must look like a wanton Hellion willing to fuck anything. Even furniture?! You whimper and pant. Almost there. If you can just stretch your pelvis back-and Reward-sweet pressure hits your clit. No more whimpering now. It's all grunting. With each grind your throat send out the most basic of pleasure notices. And he stands. You hear him walking to you. You don't care what you look like. All spread open stretched so impossibly to just rub your clit. You lock eyes with him in the dim light. Continue to grind and grunt while you stare at him with your lust drunk half open eyes. Your cheek puff out around the gag with each thrust. Air has no where to go but out your nose and blows your hair away from you. Then he leans back behind you and unclips the sleeves. You make the most unintelligible but clearly thankful of noises and crash forward. Hands in front you grind away know. Hips gyrating like your riding the best dick in the world. Your pussy draining all your lovely juices over this inanimate object which is the current affection of your desire. And now huge disappointment. He takes your hands and pulls your shoulders back. Further this time. You try to squeal. Yelling "Please, no!" And "I'll do anything! Please!". Only muffled "phee" and "Unh oo nyhnng". But no release. You're pulled back far enough that you can't get an angle anymore. Fuck this. Literally you want to fuck this. You sigh and try to calm down. As he walks back to the sofa you hear him softly whisper to himself "That's right you do anything." If he can understand Gagged Succubi you'll have to remember that. Settling in you feel the stubby phallus at its shallow level. You look over at him on the sofa and start to roll your hips. At least you can get some feeling out of this if he's going to be a jerk about it. As your hips star to writhe and twist your full breasts bounce and sway in response. At this point after these weeks you're convinced this is his metaphorical kryptonite. Every time you lean forward in a low shirt he lifts his head to look down. Each brush against him always gets an intense look or rigid response from his groin. By the outside projected lights of the house, Looking straight out you see a passerby coming down the sidewalk. They seem focused on moving forward but you decide you want to try for a show anyway. As you gyrate you turn back to him only to make out a small black box he's holding. And are those wires that run back to the- Loud and strong you cry out sharply as best you can fully startled by the deep intense vibrations that have started from between your legs. RRMRMRMRMRMRMHMRHMR! So hard and loud it sounds like someone is running a vacuum with a rug stuck in the rollers. Your mind completely melts from the stimulation as the phallus lets the vibrations sink into you at a shallow level. Everywhere sings-except your clit. All you feel there is your heartbeat. Your mind clears a bit as you normalize to the sensation and remember the walker. Your eyes fly open to see they've stopped in front of the house. They squint carefully trying to figure out what the sound is. Their head bobs about for various angles but it's clear they only think they see something-not someone. You start to bounce on the sybian trying to make it really clear what's happening in here. This wild red haired succubus is fucking whatever she can get and wants anyone interested to watch. But alas. They stare for a few more minutes trying to see past the lights in their face but nothing. A whimper of such disappointment you surprise yourself comes from you. Then he stands and walks behind you. And down the stairs?! Oh fuck this! What the Hell. You sit here in the dark getting just enough stimulation make you flood the room with your lust induced juices and you lose your only remaining audience? What a crock. No one gets their dick sucked again! Ever! This week-for tonight. Yes. To-Night! No sucking of anyone's cock! All night. All the way until tomorrow starts at 12:01 AM! You think to yourself "This is suck bullshit! I mean such! Damnit!" You glance around the room and see the low glow of the digital clock next to the fireplace opposite. 9:48 PM. Rolling your eyes you settle in to make the best of it. You lose it a bit more and come clear realizing your slightly bouncing yourself on the machine again. The light jostle to your tits feels great and the bounce from your ass is incredible. How long has it been? Half an hour? Where did he go? Glancing at the clock-9:51pm. You groan. Damnit! Then you hear steps coming up the stairs. He moves behind you and you get exited-and then walks past you to the corner. You try to scream your frustration but just more muffled struggles. "Shush for two seconds? You're going to like this just chill out for a minute." The clearest Harumph possible comes from you as you mistakenly let your body just toss itself down-and the deep vibrations throb into your thighs-pussy-and even make your anus vibrate-which feels great and startling given the intensity. You jump up slightly. And then you hear a click and the brightest light in the solar system shines up from the corner and into your face. Your eyes flash close and you hear him walk around you back to the couch. You try to squint through and realize some sort of halogen lamp and been put in the corner and tuned to focused on you. Almost a total spotlight. The light covers from your knees to maybe the top of your head. Kind of an oval shape. And realize the reason. No one will miss you now! Quickly you glance over to where you think he's sitting. Night vision ruined you can't be sure. But then you tilt your head back and let the most pleased look you can muster cross your face. Looking out you realize the house lights are bright enough to let you make out shapes on the sidewalk. Fun. Fun. Time rolls on and you glisten with sweat. The light is hot. You glance over and try to make out the clock. 9-something. 9?! 9-:5-7? Preposterous. This is incredibly frustrating and someone real needs to-movement. You see someone at the edge of the light on sidewalk. And your rewarded with even stronger vibrations from the machine. Taking your cue you start to fuck that stubby plastic dong like the fuck toy you are. Your muffled whimpers as you struggle with each bounce. Your breasts elegantly double bounce on each down thrust. You can feel your ass quake with vibration as your plump round firmness slams down to fully enjoy the rhythm. And this man-you think-walks up-squints-slows-stops. Done. He's yours. He's just staring in disbelief. You don't care. You put your weight back onto your hands behind you and ride as best you can. And after a few moments he stands upright clearly started and practically runs down the street. What. The. HELL! Who runs away from a feminine form of this magnitude displaying herself with wild abandon! You whimper and loll your head left to see his silhouette. Then let go a long drawn out whine. And you make out what you think is a shrug. A Shrug!? This is not shrug worthy! This is clearly a calamity of biblical proportions! You moan mournfully and roll your head forward-and catch what really startled the man. Two men coming up the walk. You waste no time and pitch back and ride this infernal contraption of intense frustration like the pro you are. Every few seconds you thrust up-and then down. Both feel great but which is best? Great? Wait. This isn't great at all. Without missing a beat you work in the loudest audible noises you can make. The walk-they slow to look around. Spot the house. Spot you. And stop dead. One points directly at you and the other nods. A slight pause and you realize something. These men are clearly familiar with this house. They smile leisurely and lean up against the fence taking spaces between the privacy bushes. And things click in your mind. Every time you've been taken in this room. About this time. Over the sofa. By the doors. In front of the fireplace. These men must have seen more than once. You've felt additional trickles of energy but assumed it was something else. To be this comfortable and leisurely about it? You're certain. You womanhood throbs at the realization. Each session remembered in a different light now. You look to your left. Lust written all over your face. And try to lock eyes with him. Thank him the best you can. And he stands up and walks over to you. Staying in the shadows slightly but still clearly there in the light the men get nervous. But don't run. He comes over and unzips the right side of your skirt. Then folds the edge up into the top leaving your right thigh bare. Disappointed you look down and remember the writing "Enjoy yourself". Then he returns to sit down. "Don't be daft" you think "I'm clearly enjoying mys-" and you realize one of the men has opened his pants and the other has his hand down his. These words aren't completely for you. Encouraged you quicken your pace slightly. And they do as well. Both are stroking. One out in the open and the other trying to be more covert. You can make out the motions and guess their sizes but not much else. It would be great to replace this little dildo with one of those. But still there is a different stimulation here. You're performing in a way that gets you focused attention. Lustful hedonistic stares you want so badly. Your libido needs it. Your pussy reminds of this by outright drenching the sybian. A soft squish is occasionally heard now. Several minutes go by and he walks up from the sofa and removes the skirt. Not gently. Just pulls the zipper and yanks the soaked cloth off you. You know what they see. "Pounded each day. Roughly." You thrust your hips forward. Trying to make sure they don't miss any of it. You squint out and can see them squinting back. And then one nods his head and leans over to the more "covert" one. He seems to stare back. Then loses it. His pants just drop complete and he pumps himself furiously. The other keeps it together better and just continues to stroke with his fly wide open and member out. You look up at him. Can make out his face. And his eyes. So hungry. They roam your body then come back to yours. You lock them. Insatiable fire raging in you. Burning away everything. You aim to entice him. Leaning your head back as you thrust up-then down-down certainly best by this time-you expose your neck to him and let your sweat covered breasts rock. His whole body reacts. Nostrils flare. His pupils dilate. Arms flex slightly. His jeans tighten beyond control. He leans down. This is it. He's going to take you off this machine, throw you to the ground, force your legs way back and pound you into oblivion. Just like Sunday. "Plan all you want but I can still get an edge." Your mind lust drunkenly thinks. And do your disappointment he grabs the left side of your top and roughly, without any kind of ceremony, yanks it up. Your full glorious left globe falls free and spills out. The words "Cum 4 Me" sway with each bounce you make. This is it. You will totally come for him-right now-he just needs to-NOT BE WALKING BACK TO THE SOFA! Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu! Realization sets in and your eyes snap forward. The two men are thrusting their hips and pumping themselves furiously. In a few minutes-they'll cum. Yes. Yes. Yes! Yes! YES! Almost as good! You set yourself to your mission. You lean forward and send the most lustful thoughts you can at them. Your face relaxes into as much of a seductive lust glazed gaze as the gag allows. They respond with audible grunts now. Hard and fast. This can't be easy on them. No slick lube like you provide to your generous benefactor when you get so wet. You can feel their focus on you. The raw energy passing through the yard between you. And you lock on. Pulling it into you letting it ride down your nervous system. Into your soul. It trickles in. Not like the broad flows of crash waves you feel when getting fucked. This is more like a water from a tap. Enough to remind you you're thirsty. But you push anyway. Pulling from. Knowing they are focused on you in their final moments just before orgasm. And they cum. Loud. Hard. One struggles and grips the fence and he continues to pump himself. You can't see but your more feel each release from his overcharged balls. The lust he releases in strong gouts. The other is more practiced and shoots wildly while his muscles clench and pull his head to the side. You imagine the look of focus on his face as he objectifies you. Treats you like a toy for his lust. That you ultimately inspired. Finally they start to calm. And as realizing what they've done they fumble to pick their pants up. Before they can go he leaves the sofa again and calmly walks a cross. As he edges into the light they pause. Wondering if this is it. They finally busted? He crosses The funnel distance to you. Been reaches down to yank up the other side of your shirt. Your breast Falls free when you vaguely remember what the words were. "Again. Three Days" and then he crosses the distance to the light and shuts it off sending in the blackness. Your eyes struggle to adjust but you can make out the two men across the way. Quickly they collect them selves. Brisk we had down the sidewalk not wishing to be seen again but you feel strange. They will return in three days. Maybe not strange, excited. You're certain will be back. You hear steps from behind you. The machine abruptly shuts down the drain. Hans come up behind your back and undo the clasps. You slump forward as he undoes the clasps on your knees and ankles. Roll off and onto the side on your back chest heaving by drenched the need to be filled still within you. That wildfire in you? Beyond breaking now. It is all consuming. There's nothing you can do about it. You feel it between your legs, across your breasts, feel it blazing at the back of your mind. You can't do anything but lay there feel empty, needing to be filled. And then it happens you feel familiar hands grab your ankles firmly and push your legs up over and behind your head. This is it. You're finally going to get what you want for the evening. Hard and rough. Your able to inspire anyone with want. Even those who carefully plan. If you would just that you're opening pressing firmly, you're so slick. He plunges roughly into you. You don't care. You're exhausted. Spent. Your breasts pressed firmly together by your arms your legs behind your head there's nothing you can do. Except take him into you. And you do. Over and over and over he plows into like an animal taking what's his. You can feel his length pierce you forcefully. His moans and grunts and he pulls you tightly. Fills you. You know he is close. No one can resist your warm smooth track not even him. Slickness is always too much pheromones overpowering. And then your mind starts to collapse. The fire that's been burning in is about to rage out. You feel the flame rolling through your body. A heat even he can sense. He can't stop. He's at the breaking point. And so are you. Your wildfire orgasm releases. Your breasts well with energy and your mind almost pops. Your eyes focus on his and you do your best to push back into him. That's all it took. He's done. You feel his overflowing sac release into you as he shudders hard. But continues to pump. Your orgasms intertwine and your body sings with pleasure. Hard and rough. You're hips are pummeled into the floor as he releases into you. Each hot jet filling you. Bottoming out against your cervix. You don't care. You're just a toy. A reception for his lust. Finally he shudders and pants deeply. Releasing your legs and letting you relax. He reaches up to remove the gag. But it leaves your mouth you're able to pay full breath your chest heaves, distracting him again. Maybe you can get him to try one more time this evening. Smile inwardly. Then wink at him. "Well, I guess I know what we're doing in three days." You throatily quip. He grins, that mischievous light in his eyes, "Maybe. Maybe not." Your red hair cascades back damp with sweat as you roll out. You glance over. 10:37 PM. Certainly enough time for one more. You roll to your side slightly and bring your arm up to push your breasts from underneath. You look up to lock eyes with him-but can't. He's fully trained an your flawless bosom. "Perfect. Maybe-20 minutes?" You think to yourself and smile devilishly. FunTrouble