psicoyote

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.

“I don’t know…” I mused. I didn’t know if jacking off four or five times a day was different from repeated fucking. I had a feeling it was going to be harder to keep fucking. “I’d better call home. I’m usually there by now. I don’t want them to worry.”

“OOOmmmmppphhh! Fuck yeah…” Carol grunted loudly as I pulled her ass all the way onto my cock. Carol’s pussy was tight, but her bum was tighter still. The oil made it slicker than pussy. I wondered for a millisecond if Missy Yeager took cock in her ass. Carol was now sliding her asshole back and forth the length of my shaft. “MMMmmmMMmmm…fuck me…fuck my slut ass. Tell me Jim. Tell me what a whore I am. Tell me how nasty I am for making you fuck my ass.”