Cannot think. Eporner Rock. Hands claw at ring. Feast. Squelch. As he watches my eyes roll right back into my head he enters the chamber. Spasms. THROB. Squeak. Squeak. Read 30177 times |
Rated 35.7 % |
(70 votes)
Lord of Mayhem
: NEGATIVE
thrillbill
Throbbing gets louder and faster and stronger. Throb. Bumhole loosens. I am almost braindead. Again. Shirt stinks. Again. Throb. He continues to pump his cock into his other fist. Rock. Suddenly thick spurts of greasy slime pump from the wrinkled weewee-hole, there are deep, long, leathery squeaks as the slimy glistening balls squeeze and squeeze. Desperate, desperate. Rock. The ring has performed it’s wonderful work. Rhythmic. Hands suddenly claw. Mouth is full of faeces. Beg. Throb. Plead. I put my hands together as if to pray, to beg, beg, beg no more brain damage.
