Asian Punishes A youngster With A Strap-On

This was not just a party of a secret society—this was something so much more outrageous. A lady clung at her mask as she lay on a table, the sweating frame of a man with multiple heads thrusting into her whilst people danced around them artistically. In the corner the slender frame of a young woman arched climatically whilst between her legs another woman with the head of a cat purred playfully. The room was suffused with dark yet dazzling light. Naked bodies were sprawled in every conceivable place. Muzak came from somewhere. Abby’s eyes absorbed the room—and the occupants of which were all, save for their masks, completely naked. Her bright eyes roved the room from sensual slender bodies to delectable girls with their tight frames and plump breasts and bottoms to men with muscle and large protrusions between their legs. She scanned from desire to desire—slim bodies to large bodies—large extensions to ones she could barely see and from budding physique to ones in full bloom; and yet each of the naked occupants remained so completely secretive that she could walk passed them in the street without ever noticing. The room was a warren of innermost desire—lust and feelings oozing from every corner. From one corner where a woman and a man performed the dance of life breathtaking delight gave way to sighs of deep distress and then a loud and deep cry was let out. On a futon artfully placed a man in a mask of bronze—who unbeknown to anyone but you the revered reader was a Supreme Court Judge of almost half a century—was leaning in and whispering to a girl thrice times younger than he while his hands toyed with the hem of a delicate black silk dress that was later promptly removed by him. It revealed a asian body not just matured and she was nervous as he wet the largest digit on his right hand by slipping it into her mouth before using its saliva-coated lubricity to penetrate the young girl’s tight unspoiled anus, and she cooed and cried and writhed around on his lap. She then climbed on top of this aging fiend and slipped him inside her cunt as she rode him gently and carefully although she would later be surprised by his prowess and his stamina and how pleasurably rough he was. She would be taken completely off guard when he put her on her back and gave her a most brutal perfunctory railing. He would come inside her without regard for its implications and his brutality and the japanese way he used her would mean she would go back to him several more times before the night was over despite the consequences of impregnating sex. (Needless to say revered reader that the Justice’s femdom advocacy for Roe vs. Wade and the opinion he had written some forty-five years ago had been more than compelling). As Abby’s eyes adapted to this place she witnessed virtually every scenario being undertaken without any inhibition. Girls pleasured girls. Men pleasured men. Abby saw threesomes and foursomes openly taking place on the cushions and couches. Some people were naked, some were still in their underwear, most were having sex or watching while others danced and sipped drinks and ate canapés from the waiters that passed with trays that contained fine wines and champagne and brandy and group sex things like extra-lucid soup and goat’s cheese roasted in post-coital sadness. Others took themselves off into private rooms and explored their fantasies behind closed doors. Abby had come to this place expecting a party of rich men and women and a life like she had seen in the movies but what this young girl had been greeted with instead was a scene that looked like the painting of an orgy (the ones she used to laugh at when she went to museums on school trips) being played out in front of her very eyes. She was staggered. Her mind ticked over as she took in what was before her. This was a pious society, but not to any text or God. It was pious to a much simpler belief—a belief of gratuitous and outlandish bourgeois affluence where money meant power and where power was everything. And yet it was nothing more than a barren, shadowy succession of dreary, lurid and scurrilous libidinous adventures by people leading so-called bourgeois lives. It was asinine—an egregious abuse of privilege and power and wealth—a secret society with identity fetish hidden behind masks. Abby thought it was like sex cult for the super rich with net worth dictating the entry fee; and what it got you once inside. She had heard of the illuminate online and thought this could well have been them. And then, she thought, there was The Libertine with whom she walked with. She thought he sounded middle aged—and she thought he might have been an industrialist or a billionaire playboy. Something about his voice was familiar to her, like she had heard it before maybe in a movie somewhere, but without a face she could not place it and he remained a mystery behind a mask. My hands were on her hips, pulling her toward my hardening dick. The Pillar of Light—according to Gaia—ignored the world, and to the best of her knowledge, there were no higher deities. She stood right in front of Neil. He made her gasp and moan out in delight. Miss-------I, …… I, …… I ….. Reaching into my lap, she took my hand in asian hers. “Your sacrifices will be an important performance; it is a privilege”. It was so wonderfully warm between her thighs. “Sexy nighty mum. The full force of the Machoke speared the unfortunate escapee into the sturdy tree, shattering his ribs and causing spinal damage, femdom as he slumped down with a yowl. She felt the pressure of the ropes binding her boobs making them bulge and become very group sex sensitive with her nipples tingling hard on the crown of each tit. Again, in front of the bathroom mirror after a cleansing shower Valerie admired the bulge she had acquired from four loads of Curley's seed. Petite and fair skinned, her grey green eyes set off her cute oval face. They also inquired about two twins that worked there. “Well fuck me sideways and call me ‘Twisty.’” Dad exclaimed in his thick accent, “Our son is a bonafide heathen idol.” Dad wrapped an arm around my stunned mother, then, being the classy guy that he was, grabbed his nuts, “I japanese guess I have some devil juice in the family jugs, now who would’a thought?” “Bruh, with who, I aint got gas to be running around the city, making pit-stops everywhere.” I hocked up all the spit that accumulated in my mouth and stopped blowing him to spit on the floor. She’s not wearing underwear as well.” “Mom?” He would really love to know. What he produced was no bigger than a small scoop fetish of ice cream.