Blow Up Doll

As we were walking back to the hotel on a perfectly flat, even sidewalk, Emma tripped, flailing her arms and legs like a nerd who couldn’t walk.


That sent me over the edge of sanity. I grabbed her upper arm and practically dragged her at a dead run back to the hotel room. I threw her on the bed, ripped her tights and G-string to shreds with one hand while I guided my pulsating dick to her pussy. I slammed into her, burying my dick all the way to the root. When I was in an angry mood, it took at least two sluts to bear the brunt of my insane need to dominate and punish. My sexual appetite knew no bounds at times like this.

With total disregard for Emma’s needs or wants, I manhandled her as if she was a blowup doll. I fucked her from the front, from the back, sideways, upside down. I fucked her mouth, her ass, her pussy, then started from the beginning again. I arranged her body ten different ways to try to get as deep into her scalding hot pussy, mouth, and ass as possible and to elicit as much pain/pleasure as possible for both of us.

But Emma didn’t back down; she met each and every one of my harsh assaults equally with her own counterattack. We battled back and forth, each wanting the upper hand, each refusing to back down. Her big, innocent eyes dared me to do my worse. Then I shall not disappoint.

We wrestled endlessly on the bed, on the floor, against the door, on the vanity, on the desk. She must have came half a dozen times, but she still didn’t back down. My dick was numb, but I refused to come until I’d had enough. The way I was feeling, there was no such thing as enough.


From Thousand-Year-Old Dream: The One

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