|
(MEMBERS click to see the full size image)
As if she could read his mind, Tricia walked over and leaned down to smile
close to him from the other side of the glass. "It's ok if you don't cum
right away, Ryan. There's plenty of cum, just plenty of it, waiting for you
already. What's going to be fascinating is how you are able to get hard,
and actually cum, while you are swimming in your own cum load. How could
you get hard and get off in the middle of such nasty degradation?" she asked
him.
He could not answer. He could only look at her, pleading with his eyes,
trying to find some shred of mercy in her face. But there was none. Just
amusement, arousal. She was playing with herself, enjoying the terror in
his eyes, waiting for that moment when his fear would turn into a look of
devotion, a resignation of his fate. As it always did. In time.
In no time the machine started to pour the contents of the saved container
into the chamber that insulated his head. Warm, creamy white cum spilled
down on him, and he could not believe for a moment that it was actually
happening. By the look in Tricia's eyes, though, it was clearly happening.
He was being slowly, deliberately covered with massive amounts of his own
cum (or, perhaps, even the cum of others, a thought he found mortifying).
And she was delighting in every moment of it.
(c) Copyright 2008. All rights reserved. akasha@akashaweb.com
The rest of this story and the complete image is available to Akasha Web members only and at www.sardax.com.
...READ THE ENTIRE STORY IN THE MEMBERS AREA
Not a member? Join Now!
|
