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I circled my swollen clit, gasping as the slick coated my fingers. “Fuck, girls…” Ari grinned, hopping onto the kitchen counter, spreading her legs wide. Her skirt bunched up, exposing her dripping folds. “Come here, Yara. Let’s scissor; get that pussy rubbing mine.” I climbed up, our legs intertwining, wet cunts pressed together in hot, slippery friction. We ground hard, clits bumping as our juices mixed into obscene squelches. “Oh shit, yes,” I moaned, rolling my hips as waves of pleasure built.

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In the room were ten men, seated naked in a circle on single wooden chairs. The room was well lit and had a patient bed somewhere at the corner. There were charts of penises hung up on the walls and a banner on the wall that read boldly : TINY PRICK HUMILIATION Ana was a dominatrix. And the founder of the community that consisted of a group of sub men who had a fetish for humiliation, mockery and downgrading. “Welcome to TPH. My name is Anna and I am here to help you learn… how to own your disgraceful jokes of pricks.” Anna said, taking her seat on a couch at the top of the circle.

Li Yunlong said calmly, "I'm relieved to have you here. It'll give my superiors an explanation. The location of this Asian Martial Arts Assembly is within the borders of India. I'll contact you again before setting off!" “What? Within India’s borders of the Asian Martial Dao Assembly? Holy shit, no way!” Yang Xiao was a little taken aback. According to Yang Xiao’s impression, Japan was affiliated with the South Asia, and they’re within the scope of Asia. They’re massive, mainly Africans in China, and their economy wasn’t developed, especially ‘third brother.’ They’re often elusive, and their skills were simply astonishing. Yang Xiao's biggest impression of the other side was a piece of news.

His hand settled lightly on my shoulders, then trailed down my arm in a slow caress. When his fingers reached my knee, they slipped beneath the hem of my dress, stroking the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. A soft gasp escaped my lips as his fingertips grazed the damp fabric covering my pussy. “You’re drenched,” he observed, voice rough with satisfaction. He pressed two fingers against my clit through the lace, circling with firm deliberate strokes that made my hips jerk forward involuntarily. “All this from reading your own fantasies? Or is it because I’m finally touching what you wrote about so many nights?”

I almost laughed, but I bit it back, Instead, I leaned even closer, my lips nearly brushing the screen. "But Father, it's so hard. These fantasies... they get worse every time. I dream about him pinning me down, fucking me hard and wild, his dick slamming into my womb, like he can't control himself. I want him to grab my throat, to slap my ass while he pounds into me from behind. I wake up wet, my pussy throbbing, and I have to finger myself just to get through the day, but the thought of wanting him even while fingering myself is something I don't know how to explain"

The vulnerability of the position made her blush, but the anticipation was intoxicating. Adrian ran his hands over her ass, appreciating the view. "So fucking perfect." Then he was entering her again from behind, and the new angle made her gasp. He felt even bigger this way, hitting spots that made her see stars. Adrian set a punishing pace, his hips slapping against her ass with each thrust. One hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head back, while the other gripped her hip hard enough to leave bruises. "This what you wanted?" he growled. "Wanted me to fuck you like this? Make you mine?"