Pocahontits Streamate's Profile

Languages: español, ingles

Location: Your screen! ♥♥♥

Smokes/Drinks: Sometimes

Interested In: Women, Men, Couples

Pocahontits Streamate - They play with each other and their guys.

Roaring, slapping, walking the beat of time as they put a most unpredictable wench here, a bunch of loose hair tossed onto a stick, a whip on some bushes." His cock hard, swollen for days. He is a frozen jolt of electricity as he sinks to the mattress, flushed, panting." "Nidia, Mistress, please. I beg you. Please let me come. Do it now." His fiery gaze roiling over her hazel eyes, she nods, letting his energy transform her into his bitch. She shivers, the wild intensity of her first time over his edge before her husband's chuckle replaced his amusement by a tiny thrill of desire mixed with a simmering simmering fear. He reaches for her collar, and unbuckles her collar from around her neck, letting her stand before her Master. He inspects her carefully, then pushes her forward so she straddles and lands on the floor between her husband's open legs. His hand moves over her belly, breasts, labia, and a trail to her pussy. He tastes her deeply, as he can, and slowly slides a finger into the cunt. He glances down at her swollen clit. She moans softly...a startled woman with a burned and stinging desire ready to climax. His other hand moves to her former champagne dress. She sticks her nipples and clit into the cool air. She can not see him.

Smiling, knowing she must not disappoint him again, she does as he commands. She dreams about his cooking her delicious dinner. In her mind she sees her Master dressed in black, his hand gliding across her tight little back. But it is pure fantasy she does not experience. She contemplates the possibilities and ends the play. She thinks of the hits she has had on her ass. How she responds to the teasing. How she achieves that which no man has ever dreamt of herself. Her Master's hand moving over her ass again. She could not, would not, please her Master. "Stop," she calls out. He pauses. He is watching her. She turns her head down, running her fingers over his shoulder and to the dressing room.

It is empty. He pulls her up, running his hands lightly over her body. He moves behind her. He drops to his knees. She lays back, wishing he were still there. If he were still, the shock of the blow would have been more sting, the rush of sensation is greater. She begins to rub her ass to help him a bit. He moves closer to her ass, putting his hands on her hips to raise her ass off the bed, spreading her legs. He takes some of the slack from her hips, which is showing a lot, by sliding her thighs out a bit. He rolls her onto her back, which is a bit too far. She is starting to cry. Tears fill her eyes. He licks her red chute. He can taste her nectar. "Thank you, my girl," he her, a lump in her throat, "thank you for helping me with what is not your own..

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