twerkout song

“Jesus fuck Mrs…Carol. Holy shit…” Carol continued to pull and suck on my dick, coaxing the last bits of semen from my cock into her mouth.“Mmmmm…that was delicious, Jim. You taste so good.”“Thanks” was all I could muster as I tried to get my rubbery legs to stop shaking.

Once he got accustomed to the restraints, he decided to challenge himself. He removed his shirt and began performing his personal workout. Now, it wasn’t just his muscles being strained, but his mana reserves and control. Having spent numerous lifetimes pursuing the peak of physical fitness, he knew how to fight through strain and fatigue, and push his body to its limits and beyond, but this experience was a whole new dimension of challenging. The closest thing he could compare it to was performing weight training in high altitudes and crushing depths.

Something was wrong. I struggled to open my eyes, blearily forcing myself to focus. I was in a red-panelled room, dimly lit, one I'd never been in before, with... things, on the walls. Whips, floggers, toys of all descr*ptions, most of which I couldn't even name. It was only then that I realized I was naked, bound on my back to a table with my legs spread into a slight V in the air, wrists above my head, a belt around my waist holding me down. I lifted my head, and saw that my six-inch dick was hard and straining, twitching without my command. Why the fuck was I hard? Arousal was the last thing I was feeling! Confusion, fear, panic, yes. But not arousal.