Languages: spanish and english
Location: ❤️ hornyland ❤️
Smokes/Drinks: maybe some times
Interested In: Women, Men, Couples, Trans
Body Type: sexy bosy
We had a blast.Wildone had a party with us. It was a full night of drunken revelry. One of our resident strap on fetishists, studfucked me with a dildo while I was tied up and covered in cum. My ebbs were legendary. And because I was such a big girl, I attracted even more crowds to my parties.In the midst of all of this, one thing remained constant; my beautiful, sexy girl. After finishing our last shift at the bar, I watched as one too many people wandered over to our "play room" to dip their cocks in the pool of spunk that was there. What a sight! There were sluts serving drinks and straining against their restraints in their panties being toyed with and rubbed by guys taking pictures and videos all while they watched and talked to one another. It seemed like every couple of minutes it was another drunken frat boy or girl getting a thrill from a naked slut. It seemed like the parties had become a violent mix of sex and violence. And it seemed like the drug of choice for a lot of these guys."Who says you can't have it?" laughed my darkest sub. "I'm here to belong to you, my Master. I'm not here for any sort of performance art. I'm not a slut. If anyone is here who's willing to make the effort to bring themselves to the point of enjoying a woman like you, I'm all ears. I'm not here to make myself useful.
I'm not here to serve your needs. I'm here to worship you. And I'm here to die young."The rest of the night was spent in a grotesque looking stupor. Our chat room had become our emergency bunker. If the police came at any point during it, the riotous chat would have lost some of it's luster. And the drug of choice for a lot of these guys was clearly heroin. Almost as if it was a drug that just took a little longer to kick in its potent visual kick. So, just as the conversation between us broke up, I headed back to the bar in a last attempt to keep the party going. I had finally broken bad and was just dying to get fucked by some nice dyke. But deep down inside, I wanted to get fucked by you. My gut feeling was that you were a dyke because: a) you were bi and b) you were bi. So, for some reason, I was prepared emotionally and otherwise. I had figured out a way to bring you to our table. And as our servers escorted us to the car, your knowing smile and nod of approval always made the trip down easier.
We often ended up in the parkinglot, the curtains partially opening as we got out. The ride was a short one, two streets away from our house. It seemed a good place to be. Finally, the door to the car opened. Our security detail gave out with a sigh. The metal frame creaked and our white convertible slipped across the street. And if one of us slipped the right word on, we were onto our way back to our place. But there were too many security guards, bikers and rollerbladers. And the back door was locked. We shoved the door open. You stepped out of the car. We embraced. You touched my back, and I told you to kiss me. We each opened up a bit. You kissed a bit more..
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