1. A Scarred Wonderland


    Date: 8/22/2015, Categories: Hardcore, Author: MadMartigan, Rating: 18, Source: LushStories

    filled with harsh jeers. She moans as the banana parts her slippery folds and pushes inside. The chocolate melts on contact with her creaming cunt. The scent is a bullet to the head, more addictive than caffeine, more dangerous than misplaced trust. She loses control, lost in a sugary dance, burning under the leers of men she doesn’t even know. The banana crumbles apart inside her fiery hole just as she tenses up, hips lifting off the floor, back arching. Magic. Her pussy twitches and a banana split of syrupy cum oozes out of her flared lips. A cacophony of ragged grunts echoes all around her and hot semen splashes over her in waves, coating her from head to foot. She wriggles this way and that, trying to catch all of, as if it’s ambrosia. When they finish, she wears an expression of inexhaustible exhaustion. They make crude jokes about a new class of high-end art as she paints a mural of lust over her body with their filthy leavings. She smiles wickedly, crooks a finger. Tells them to take a more direct role this time. They fall upon her like starved vultures. Click. Overturned poker tables litter a dim-lit room. Stacks of money lay crumpled and abandoned, soaking up rivers of spilled tonic and gin. No one notices the masked figures slinking inside. No one notices the panel slide up from behind the bar, revealing a safe. And no one notices the gold ingots being emptied from it along with a thick stack of files. No one cares. Sweat slick bodies wriggle with slippery, ...
    serpentine movements over sticky wood floors. A man with a goatee and a half-moon scar on his cheek has the blonds’ hips propped up on a pillow, her breasts flattened against the floor. He teases a thin-necked bottle against her pink star, eases it inside. The girl sobs, begs him to pull it out. He spanks her ass, tilts the bottle, and tells her the wine is worth more than he’s paying for her services. Then his dick replaces the bottle. He pounds her ass with abandon, wine sloshing around with a filthy churn. Fingers curl in her tangled braid. He directs her movements with urgent tugs as she feasts on the blushing crotch of a pretty Asian. Glass shatters. The goateed man doesn’t notice. He’s entranced, watching the navy blue wine leak from the blonde’s ass, stained her pale legs. He spanks her, grunts in acknowledgement when begs for it harder. Faster. The blond notices though. She winks as the last of the masked figures picks up the gold bar he dropped on a $500 bottle of scotch. He stares. She curls a finger, licks her lips. He takes a step forward, then stops. Shakes his head. She frowns in amused disappointment. He takes off his mask, blue eyes flashing. “Later,” he mouths. “Definitely,” she purrs, just as a creamy load fires up her sphincter. Click. The photos explode in number, filling every inch of white space on the walls. And the monster inside me brings each one to depraved life. Drugs. Sex. Pounding music. Flashing cameras. Wild howls. The squelching beat of hard dick in ...
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