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必要 监狱 色情 - 3882 性别 剪辑

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“I never wanted you to know me.” Arbitrus said, breaking the silence, “I never wanted you to be burdened with my existence. I wanted you to forge your own path, to make your own mistakes, to celebrate your own triumphs. I fear that your knowledge of me might create a… crutch that hampers your development. You may think that this meeting was by design, but it was by chance. Through the part of Diamond that resides in the astral plane, I saw you coming from Arbortus, but I did not put myself in your way. I’m not here for you.” “Then why did you reveal yourself to me?” I asked, “Why not just continue to play the fool, like yesterday?” “Because I know you’re looking for the Life Giver,” Arbitrus said, “and he is why I am here.” “The Life Giver is here?!” I practically yelled. “He was. He’s gone to Drastin now with Tera.” “The Sorenson boy?” I asked, “ He’s the Life Giver? Why didn’t you save him?!” “Succubi have no power over Creators, so Brandon went on his own accord.” Arbitrus said, “I thought about going after just to keep tabs on him, until I realized who Tera worked for. Then, I didn’t dare.” “Night Eyes?” I asked, “The gangster? Who cares about her?” “The gangster.” Arbitrus scoffed, “Night Eyes is a gangster like an axe wound is a papercut. She’s not quite an anarchist, though random destruction is in her repertoire. She’s like a demented toddler who thinks the world is her toy, and she does with it as she pleases. Her brand of evil, and the power with which she enacts it, are not natural.” Arbitrus reached into the large pocket of his overalls, and produced a copy of the magazine Lucilla had shown me yesterday. He tossed it BBC Prison on my lap, and I turned the page to the article about Astrid, featuring a sneering portrait of Night Eyes in the corner. An odd prickling crawled slowly up my spine as I ran my hand over the nymph’s picture, Does she look vaguely familiar? “Seventeen years ago, I saw something that terrified me.” Arbitrus said, his voice wavering, “I looked into the ethereal realm of the most ancient one, and found that it was empty. She had awoken from her slumber, and escaped the astral plane.” “Corruption?” I whispered. Arbitrus nodded, and I turned my attention back to the picture. “But black eyes don’t mean anything,” I insisted, “a cosmetic astral meld can turn anyone’s Jail Fuck eyes any color. You don’t know that-” “I know.” Arbitrus said solemnly, “I traveled to Drastin when news of this Night Eyes reached my ears. I found her in her brothel, and I saw the beast beneath with my own eyes. It smiled at me, and I ran. I ran as far as my legs could carry me.” “Good Mother,” I whispered, “Astrid, this ‘Angel’ girl, she’s my friend’s daughter! She and Flora went to Drastin ahead of us, they’re-” “Dead.” Arbitrus interrupted, roleplay prison “Or wishing they were. Or maybe Night Eyes invited them to dinner? No one knows what she’ll do. You’d have better luck predicting the fall of a thousand dice, then guessing her actions. It’s the nature of the beast inside her.” Both girls loved the gifts from Kyle. Great. And to quote Seinfeld, they were amazing! Salman and Manya groped around in the pool, staggering to regain Jail Fuck ground. “Three now. And sometimes things just happen. Then laughter. I first met Amanda roleplay prison at a rehabilitation facility where I was working as a counsellor. That's really good.” What will happen next? Now BBC Prison my hands were on his hips, pulling him into a rocking motion as I was now buried to the hilt in his hot ass. Oh yeah. You figured out which one was your mother and avoided cumming inside her."

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Her body ached from the exercise, but it was nothing compared to how her naked breasts throbbed. Placing herself on hands and knees, arms straight and shins against the floor, she looked down at her own chest. They'd been N-cups before, and she'd never expected them to grow any bigger. Now, they were large O's. In time, her burgeoning new fetish had grown into an obsession. She'd bought a pump first, starting to use it to milk herself every day. Usually, she'd have a vibrating wand pressed against her pussy the entire time her milk was pouring out, watching it spurt from herself with a low moan of arousal coming from her throat. Soon she had become infatuated with the idea of producing as much milk as she could, and acquired some medicine and supplements through sometimes questionable means. Estradiol, domperidone, fenugreek - anything that she thought could increase that warm, delicious flow from her nipples. Adjustments to her diet had let her keep up the constant outlet of nutritious milk, and though her prison rules match body had still increased slightly in weight, it was all to the benefit of her curves. Combined with the constant milking and her natural breast size, after three months of lactating Jennifer had eventually measured herself at an average output of 115 oz per day. Nearly a gallon of milk. It was so much that she'd started to have trouble disposing of it all, though eventually she'd located a milk bank willing to take donations. For her, it wasn't about the milk itself, it was about the way it made her feel to produce it inside herself, then to let it out of her in great milky gushes or constant dripping flows. The sensation was not quite like being a cow... it was more like all she was was just a pair of breasts, and that they were doing what breasts were meant to do. It was an obscene thing, and she would shudder in orgasm each night imagining someone mocking her tits for their constant leaking, stepping on them so it spurted out harder, and similar mistreatment. Everything about lactating so much played into her other fetishes, and she felt like she never wanted to stop. Pulling her knees beneath her body, Jennifer placed her arms before her as if praying towards the wall. Her breasts hung against the ground, tips brushing against the carpet. The sensation against her nipples was muted by the strips of waterproof black tape covering them, twin 'X'es completely hiding the hard nubs. They sealed prison gangbang all milk from leaking from her, though it had taken a few tries to find the right kind of tape and right amount of coverage to accomplish that. It was her preferred way of preventing herself from expressing, on the rare occasions she didn't want to. Whenever she could, she'd often go around her house constantly dripping, staining a shirt, or simply spraying milk while not even having to touch herself. It had been about month of constant extreme milk production since she'd hit her peak, with her body was only getting better at enduring it each day. It was to the point that she could lactate for hours if she simply let herself leak, constant streams of white dripping down her nipples onto a towel pressed against her belly. If she wanted to prevent herself from soaking through her shirt when she went out, her only options were to milk herself empty with pumps beforehand, or to tape up her nipples. Whenever she chose the latter, she could always feel the pressure building inside, an exciting sensation that made her feel almost as hot as if she were lactating in public. Whenever she finally got home and took off the tape, she would release all her stored milk in a rush, a sensation that never failed to leave her wet and panting. However, she still yearned for more. In achieving her body's maximum possible lactation, she felt she had become what she was always meant to be, yet she still had been the only one to enjoy the pleasures of her obscenely massive, milky tits. She wanted to feel another's rough hands squeezing the hot white spray from her nipples, delivering the harsh abuse that her body deserved. Looking at her creamy pale tits, she would imagine them bruised and battered, bitten and written on. Despite her attractive qualities, she was still a virgin, having never even been seen naked by a man. The thought of her first sexual contact being casual, degrading, even painful... it was more enticing to her than she knew it should be. Turning slowly, Jennifer rolled herself onto her back, staring up at the ceiling and panting softly as she splayed out, adopting the final pose. With her limbs spread, her breasts hung heavy from her chest, massively engorged with milk. It had been two days since she last let herself express, though she had still continued with her regular diet and medication routine. Two days each where she could have milked out nearly a creamy gallon from her tits, and instead had left her nipples taped, holding the sweet liquid in. She hadn't gone so long without milking herself since she had first begun to lactate, now nearly a quarter year ago. The temptation to release had been hard to resist, growing harder with each hour that her breasts' fullness increased, making them them more and more achingly tender to the touch. It had to be let out soon, and would be. Two weeks ago, Jennifer had filmed herself doing yoga in just her pants, much as she was now, but without her nipples taped. Without them sealed, she had leaked in a constant spray throughout her entire half-hour long routine, her arousal visibly increasing as her tight yoga pants soaked at her pussy. Part of her excitement that day had been knowing someone would watch the video, but mostly it was just the feeling of milk leaking out of her, the flow unceasing and uncontrolled. Being on camera like that made her feel as if she were just a pair of breasts, meant to make milk and look sexy, toy tits for someone to enjoy. After appending a small speech prior to the yoga show, in which she'd professionally explained her desires and ideas, she'd submitted the video to a local BDSM club under the title 'Breast Milk Masochism'. Her face had been blurred, the focus entirely on her body... a slow buildup of anticipation, a slow release of milk, both of them constant as she moved and displayed herself in the semisexual poses of yoga. Then, at the end... Lying flat on her back, Jennifer reached the count of forty, and her routine ended. She lay there for a Prison Female moment longer, remembering what she'd done at the end of the video at this point in her exercise, replaying it in her head. The memory made her arousal flare, and a sudden urge overtook her, irresistible to her after the torturous teasing she'd just put herself though. “Well,” Poppy replied, “assuming that you’ll be wearing the same as us 3 then nothing.” They needed a place that was secure, but where they could get to them easily. I went around to the driver’s side and got in. “So, where to my dear,” I asked. But that would have been amazing. Her black hair swayed about her face as she stared down at me, her eyes glistening. Her pussy was soaking wet and on fire. Her words sent a chill through me. My vow to Rithi swelled through me. I would have to hurt Kora to set her free. She leans back so they thrust out more. prison rules match “Yes Ryan, I proposed to my daughter, your Mother that I sell my property in Springfield and, from the proceeds of the sale that I finance an addition to this house, a mother-in-law suite I believe they’re called. She gasps with excitement. I couldn't resist. I start crying again when she rubs the healing cream into me. Not because the cunt paste brings torture, but because the sensation prison gangbang is so blissfully soothing that I instinctively feel gratitude to my torturer when I should be hating Riyena even more than Klink. Her stomach was Prison Female flat, and her abs were ripped from her cheerleading. He said, recognizing my voice, his smugness oozing through the line. I smiled back at him. Laura said she wanted to get fucked and suck a cock at the same time. I did the nice to meet you and shook her hand and the sister was jumping around tittering away about how Susan had a real boy friend. He could see her body start to shake as he gently fondled those rising nipples.

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