Heart and soul gym byron bay. One more step.



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Heart and soul gym byron bay

Her breasts are firm and ripe, but not overly large, though definately more than a mouth, or hand full, for that matter. When he was home that is. After aquiring a BA in Literary Arts at his expense, she found that she had a lot of time to sit around the newly built in swimming pool in their back yard when the weather was cool, or lay out on their secluded lake front beach when the weather was warm. In either case, she rarely had more clothes on most days than some skimpy bikini, or bra and panties set. Jean had no intention of going to work at some regular 9 to 5 job. She had a social life to think about after all, and that kept her late evenings booked most weekdays, thanks to her mother, and her friends, when Harold was off sailing, and getting up early was out of the question. Yet today being the fourth of July, and with the aroma of barbeque pits wafting at her from every nearby home Jean suddenly felt alone, and dissatisfied with her existance. Even then she could tell he was physically fit, but now, here in front of her, right at her feet wearing those boxer swimming trunks she was damn near ready to salivate over the tanned Adonis grinning down on her. The food will be on the grill in an hour, and all I need to know now is, how do you like your steak? It was nearly see through, but not quite, and tied with strings to hold it in place at the sides on her hips, and the back of her neck. However Jean was one of those women who made clothes look good, not vice versa, and she suddenly felt a thrill of slutty exhibitionism run through her, before she grabbed the sheer red, and pink flowered wrap around and tied it at her left hip as a make shift skirt, and slipped into her high heeled clogs. It was as if the woman was actually happy to see Jean there, even meeting her half way with a quick hug and peck on the cheek hollywood fashion. It must be so terribly lonely for you when Harold is off sailing. The others will be arriving soon, so just plop down, and make yourself at home. As promised though, there were plenty of singles, as well as married people, and most were all around her age save for the occasional over forty or so, and happily married couples sprinkled in, and plenty of color to the whole lot she noticed. A london broil, marinated as promised, and delivered by the chef himself. Still, she would welcome his company, and conversation, she told herself, and went to get another drink along with some salad, already feeling quite stimulated, and relaxed by the previous three Mai Tais she giggled suddenly about absolutely nothing. The colors seemed so outragously vivid, and the fading sparkles so detailed that she was sure she could reach right out and touch them. Look at that one! Jean turned her head to smile then, and got the surprise of her life. Even Betty, her hostess, was standing there, just a few feet away, staring up at the fireworks as a strange black man stood behind her, his arms around her from behind, with his left hand down the front of her thong, and his right hand mauling her breasts now exposed to the night air. Jean immediatly looked to Dave sitting next to her, and caught him smiling at his wife, before turning back to Jean, and shrugging his shoulders as if this were to be expected. As are most of those here at the party. The women make the choices here, not the men. She had no control what so ever over herself, and when she was next aware of her surroundings, she was in a bed, on her back, legs wide open, with Dave overtop of her. It was as if Jean were being fucked by every man that had come to the party, one after the other. Each male barely finishing up in her pussy before the next in line stabbed into her and kept her cunt in a turmoil of promiscuous retention towards the next all consuming climax. Just keep pumping that pussy up along the length of that nice thick, long dick. Hold on, here comes the next cock for you. A nice fat juicey black dick this time. Even bringing Jean to several climaxes with her lips and tongue in the process. Jean started fading in and out of reality from then on. Deciding that it was all just a dream, a figment of her sexually deprived imagination, and way too many Mai Tais. Her head felt a bit fuzzy, but she figured that was from the drinks, and then she remembered her wild dream of being the center of an orgy in her next door neighbors bed at the party last night, and she smiled at her own silly illusions. Then her eyes flew wide open as the bed moved without her doing the moving. Someone was in bed with Jean, and that someone was spooning up behind her with a very erect, very big cock. Then she felt a hand smooth over her waist, coming around her front from behind, and a quick look as it cupped her right breast nearly gave Jean a heart attack. The hand was as black as coal next to her white marbled flesh. Then Jean remembered, as if a brilliant flash had just illuminated her brain. Betty and Dave had given him to Jean to take her home and feed her all the black cock she wanted from now on while Harold was away at sea now, and in the future. Fuck me with your big Nigger dick Byron! Fuck my married white pussy! Stretch it out as big as the fucking Grand Canyon! Make me your whore for life! Your white, married, Nigger loving whore! The smell of sex assailing her nostrils like an ambrosia to her senses. Cum on my fucking dick! Then we can start all over doing it doggy style, eh! Would you like that?! Would you like fucking a dog, bitch? The nastier the man got, the raunchier he spoke, the more intense her orgasms became. To the point where, if Byron wanted her to do it, she would, no matter how vial the conditions. Jean never got out of bed for more than the time it took to make them something to eat, or go to the bathroom all that day. He should have been back months ago fucking me silly, but where is he? Out making his first million instead. And you know what? After all, when a married women fucks other men, she is a whore, Jean thought, and realized then that she thought so rather proudly, even if a bit sore down there as a matter of fact. We just found out last week. In fact nothing gets him hotter than having sloppy seconds, thirds, of tenths from the last black cocks to screw me, or being forced to eat my pussy clean after my Niggers service me for several hours. Wait until Byron brings his dog over. Byron had suggested that she dress up a bit, wear something sexy, and a bit kinky as he would be bringing her a surprise this afternoon after he got off of work. So instead she finished her cup of coffee, and said her good-byes to them both, and was out the back door in less than five minutes. The house was immaculate, Jean was bubble bath fresh, powdered, perfumed, laquered, and painted up, and dressed in deep purple. Purple garterbelt, a matching half cup bra that left her pink nipples exposed, seamed nylons, thonged panties, and ankle straped high heeled pumps, an outfit that Harold had bought for her on a whim after their honeymoon. Jean not only felt like a complete slut now, she looked the part as she opened the front door at the first knock. No problem, this bitch is on me, buddy. An all hot pink polyester suit, a black silk shirt, and white silk tie, with a matching white fedora hat on top of his bald black head, the gold earing in his right ear even had a diamond in it, not to mention all the gold littering his fingers. You want to share the bitch with me! Suck this Nigger hard before I slap you up side the head! Suck that big mo fo right down your honky throat! And a picture of what she must look like on her knees sucking off that big Nigger dick flashed in her brain causing a thrill to shiver through her spontaniously. She was on the Soul Train to Climaxville, riding in the express cars. Then she felt Byron pat her on the rump just before Devil hopped up onto her haunches, and wrapped his front paws around her thin waist. Just barely managing to spit it out in time to catch her breath. Give it to her good! And worse, that battering cock was growing bigger inside of her already stretched out pussy every moment. Truly the black bastard on her back, panting over her left shoulder was the Devil himself fucking her. In fact the insanity of the moment brought her to a new level of orgasms, even higher than any previously experianced by Jean, so that now pain too had become a part of her glorious climactic resume. She felt extremely dirty, being a part of this bestial act, and found herself wallowing further into the filth of her own downfall as it were, especially when the cannine on her back, with his cock firmly locked into her human cunt, began pissing his puppy making sperm into her prime realestate. He just lay there, head up, as if a king at court getting his just due. Hell, I can see her fucking liver, her cunt is gaping open so much! There was just something about letting a Nigger take her in her white ass that was just too irrisistablely wicked, and thrilling to Jean to put into mere words. After all, she was blowing a fucking dog, how much worse was that compared to a little fucking in the ass? Especially when Byron fucked her ass to such wonderful, and powerful orgasms as he did. Your ass is so fucking tight I swear it could squeeze the life out of a pencil! Look at her ass wag back and forth trying to get all of my Nigger dick in there! What a ho, indeed. It was like having one very long extended prick fucking her from one end of her body to the other. In, out, in, out, over and over again, those two pricks, one human, the other animal, like a perpetual machine going back and forth, pumping in and out together, using her, and being used by her for her own wicked, and more than disgustingly perverse pleasures. Jean was the cream filling in their insane oreo cookie manage a trois. No doubt about that, but a working ho nevertheless, Jean thought, and that would make Harold happy. It all happened so fast, and while Jean was in a total drugged sexual stupor, that she never even knew that her husband had finally come home from the sea, and was even now knocked out like a light switch turned off suddenly, on their living room couch only six feet away behind her. Her last rational thought was to wonder just how much she was making being the whore for a dog, and a Nigger both at the same time. The lamp looked vaguely familiar as well, and then he remembered it was the one in his own living room, and suddenly everthing of those last few seconds entering his house flashed brightly in his brain like a branding iron condemning him for his long abscence away from home, and hearth. Harold sat straight up on the couch then, and received a low warning growl from the self same demon cannine, its teeth bared, and only six inches from his throat. Nobody knows your home, certainly not your wife in her condition. Oh she may have wanted to, but she never would have let go on her own, and once she did, we knew she would condemn herself better than we, or even you could. Anyway, you might want to get together with them sometime soon, like tonight maybe, and find out what is expected of you from now on. It was twenty minutes later that Jean began to stir on the living room carpet, rolling onto her back from a kneeling fetal postion, she ended up sprawled with her arms and legs wide open. Heart and soul gym byron bay

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7 Comments

  1. His dick still in hand, his own cum dangling in stringy slimy short ropes dripping from his fist, and the end of his prick as he walked, falling to the carpet at his feet.

  2. Her head felt a bit fuzzy, but she figured that was from the drinks, and then she remembered her wild dream of being the center of an orgy in her next door neighbors bed at the party last night, and she smiled at her own silly illusions. Fuck my married white pussy!

  3. So instead she finished her cup of coffee, and said her good-byes to them both, and was out the back door in less than five minutes. The door to their bedroom was wide open, but Harold approached it with caution just the same. This was the best of what he could ever have hoped for, and had never dared ask for.

  4. Deciding that it was all just a dream, a figment of her sexually deprived imagination, and way too many Mai Tais. However Jean was one of those women who made clothes look good, not vice versa, and she suddenly felt a thrill of slutty exhibitionism run through her, before she grabbed the sheer red, and pink flowered wrap around and tied it at her left hip as a make shift skirt, and slipped into her high heeled clogs. Everyone got up then, and followed Betty into the front room, and Betty shed the white terrycloth robe she was wearing, draping it over the back of the couch on the way to the front door.

  5. Jean had never so much as uttered the word shit under pressure, let alone these profanities she was calling out now, and it only made his act of voyurism that much more exciting. There was just something about letting a Nigger take her in her white ass that was just too irrisistablely wicked, and thrilling to Jean to put into mere words. Then she felt Byron pat her on the rump just before Devil hopped up onto her haunches, and wrapped his front paws around her thin waist.

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