1. Swigglewicks


    Date: 10/5/2017, Categories: Exhibitionism, Author: adagio_sabadicus, Rating: 6, Source: LushStories

    Finding a table, I ordered further courage, and waited, patient as a saint, pouring brandy into a snifter. The two men about her appeared to be ploughing for potatoes, as they ground into her anus, but she was in control. I watched her giving them encouragement, could see her sphincter squeeze, as if sucking on an orange. She gave out the expected moan, bringing their eruptions full centre of the masses. They spewed cum simultaneously until her ass-bucket overran with goo. Ordering them to their knees, she made them clean her, lapping at her ass, sucking up their own sticky residue and each other’s. Laughing, she praised them, patting their heads, ticking their chins. With a "cha-ching" she made the sound of a cash register as she casually batted them away, leaving them to reload or leave if the cash had dried up. Hips swaying the way I adored, she made a bee-line for me. I handed her a flute of wine as she air-kissed my smiling, sinful grin. Needing no prayer from me, she latched on to a strange cock, passing her way. Taking a sip, she let the fellow dip into her throat again and again, clutching his body close, her red fingernails dug so deep she drew blood. He bucked and stiffened, and she smiled as she gargled his spunk, letting it run down her chin. Turning to another mark, "Would you be so kind as to lick it off?" to which he obeyed with a vigorous tongue. And I, the voyeur, looked on. Upon my table rested an astray, and with each cock she sucked to completion, a ...
    flicked wooden match landed within it rounded confines. Her jaws were repeatedly filled, the drool spilled, and the matched fell. The count on my mental abacus stopped six or seven, my head spinning too much to tally more. She was going for a baker's dozen; that I knew. In the abyss of the dim, candle-lit room, I measured out seventeen men and nine women all in undress, meandering in cotillion ways of fucking amuck. Soon to be one more when the moth parked his shoes and clothes. I set down on an easy chair, raising the glass to my lips has she hummed the blues, her body gyrating. I watched through tinted glasses as she crawled to me, down on all fours, purring "What is your choice, naughty boy?" as the tingles of her pussy rings gave more notice of her hopping clit. “Oh for the pleasure of you to ride a thick pony, that’s all I require.” And with that a saddle was wheeled out, with two horn-phallus's, to give hope to all that rode it. My lover, never being prone to spells of waiting, gathered her lusting emotions and mounted it. With each lunge her tits gave lifts of the shaking's as she swore 'come-ons' to those aroused watchers. Rocking and reeling, she screamed out her affirmation of being boned, as the mechanical companion embed the long stemmed ivories deep inside her. All eyes were on her. One phallus in her cunt and the other in her anus as and she caroused the horn. Her eyes bore of her devilment, as the cum and juices flew. A ten-thirty, her cunt in need of a few moments ...
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