Futon Armin Novels & Stories

Leather couches in the middle for visitors, his high-technology office table, steel cabinets, and drawers that are passcode protected. "Good morning, master." the butler dressed in a white tux bowed his head. "Dr. Richforte and Dr. Hawl are here to talk with you." He waves his hand, "Thank you, Arman. Dr. Richforte, Dr. Hawl, please have a seat and make yourselves comfortable." he motions us to the leather couches in the middle of the room as he stands. "And Arman, prepare us a snack and drink. Bring us the expensive wine we have in the facility."

He almost left the comfort of his room when a hand wrapped itself around his chest and right under his armpit. “Glad to see you’re awake, your highness. I don’t think you are in the shape to start dueling again.” Armand looks up breathing hard. Slight relief washes over him and he leans on the huge arms around him. “Fucking hell, Matei…” ...

For the first time, I felt truly in it, not just adjacent. Eventually, the collective teasing gaze of the table landed on its favorite target: Arman. Arman was… something else. A foreign exchange student from some northern country, he looked like he’d stepped out of a classical painting. Wavy brown hair, eyes the color of a summer sky, tall with the lean, strong build of a swimmer. He was also quiet, incredibly kind, and intelligent. And every single day, it seemed, someone worked up the courage to confess their feelings to him. He would always refuse with a gentle, polite finality that left no room for argument but also no lasting bitterness.

His whispering sobs and infantile protests carried no weight with his strict mistress. ‘Let me play with his willie,’ breathed Armina, unzipping the catsuit, her breasts, belly and smooth mound showing through the opening. She took his weapon in her hand and rubbed it vigorously while the cane thwacked his writhing backside. Armina gave his prick a few more firm strokes, handed it over to Jo who did the same and then passed it on to Karen. She made a fist, slid the foreskin up and down over its bulbous tip. He sobbed his pleasure and spurted out a shower of semen, covering her fingers with creamy jism and spattering the towel beneath him. He cried out in the tumult of release and fell across

His toned body and glimmering tattoos caught the moonlight, but I quickly looked away, focusing on Demetri. Together, we maneuvered through the cabin, navigating sharp corners and narrow spaces until we reached the bedroom. Armando placed Demetri on the bed, his exposed legs and battered body a stark contrast to the soft duvet beneath him. I covered him with a blanket, my hands trembling as I set up the equipment by the bedside table.

Nathanial's perspective: I'm holding onto Armina as she sleeps, her body taking random deep breaths as she rests. I can't help but wonder if she's having bad dreams, she feels tense even when she's meant to be peacefully resting. I hate seeing the way her expression keeps changing, like she's stressed even in her sleep.

"Fuck, Armman... it’s... it’s so big... ahhh... slow down... please... for now... ahhh." "I'm not going slow," Armman growled. He started to hammer into her, his hips slapping against her backside with a loud, wet sound. "I have just a few minutes to fuck this pussy at the pace I want before we get home and I cannot fucking waste it with some lazy fucks.”

Or even more? I had grown so used to the cycle of sandwich-yell-sleep that when I finally heard locks and latches clacking, I was in disbelief. I sat up on my bed and watched as the door opened, then squinted against the full light from the hallway. Armin stood there, dressed in black fatigues and holding a pair of handcuffs. “Alright, let’s go. Stand up and put your hands behind your back.” I stared at him. Until that moment, I thought that I never could have hated another human being as much as I hated Miranda – but Armin was running a very close second.

the man smirks while Arvin and Eve become immensely expectant. "Don't let me dwell longer with what came into my mind, Mr. Varce. I will be very expectant" Arvin earnestly mutters. His gaze was fixed on the man, gauging his intention. "You're a shrewd man President Arvin Deutche, I won't dare mess with you. So yes, what came into your mind is correct. I will be choosing from your collection today to bring to my runway show in Paris" Arman Varce seriously announces.

After such a hot romance, Aranjo fell asleep in the arms of Ming Hao, the General. *** The next morning, Aranjo awakens to find herself alone on a futon. Aranjo came down and put her clothes back on. Her intimate area was a little sore, but it made her think back to their hot love games. Just by thinking about it, Aranjo had already started to want her back. Aranjo walked towards the table and washed her face with the water that was already available in the brass basin. Then, dry her face with a cloth that is already available there. Where is the General? her inner self.