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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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The Hangman's Wife - 2
by Slim n' Dusty (slimndusty@yahoo.co.uk)
***
The infamous gang, the McKell Brothers, are caught and
hanged for robberies. The hangman's wife gives them are
pleasant surprise before their execution, and finds
pleasure following it... (FMM, voy, v, hanging, nec)
***
‘They’re coming!’ she softly whispered to herself.
She normally wasn’t that big on reading the daily
newssheets but once she’d heard that the McKell Gang
were robbing in her county she began to take some
notice.
Each morning, she would slowly read the details of
daily updates, their increasingly desperate situation.
Shivering, she would take the latest newssheet and
retreat into her bedroom upstairs and lie amongst the
older newssheets that she’d been collecting.
She would start with the initial article. The very
first report was their sighting by a witness down
Barnaby Creek, then the mail coach robbery and
following that - a bank in a town less than thirty
miles away.
She would read through each article, scouring the
updates, absorbing all the finer details, the profiles
of the gang members and how old each of them were,
their descriptions – she loved the written descriptions
of criminals, rather than the roughly-reproduced
artists’ impressions. She preferred leaving their
handsome features to her imagination. In many cases the
descriptions would turn out inaccurate in the papers
and, having hanged many of them herself, she would be
the one to know.
The McKell boys were wanted in 5 counties and their
gang had been on the run the longest out of any that
the hangman’s wife could lovingly list in her mind.
They must be so wild, she thought as she fondled
herself. She wanted them to continue riding closer to
her, and to not get caught outside her jurisdiction.
‘Come to me!’ she would pray aloud to herself while she
sat cross-legged on her bed wet, touching the poorly
printed faces of each of the McKell brothers, smearing
the newsprint. ‘Come to mummy!’ She was 36 and the two
core gang members, the McKell brothers, were in their
mid-twenties.
She preferred pleasuring herself with criminals
straight after their execution. She loved the feel of
the gang members, the skin of their cold bodies and
their strong riders’ legs and thighs and what potential
lay between. So wild and virile, she thought, as she
read the latest sighting while slowly massaging her
moist, throbbing clit.
She promised to herself that if fate intervened that
she would not have her orgasm now, nor tomorrow, nor
the next day. She would keep herself from coming if
fate could promise that the gang were caught in her
jurisdiction and nobody else’s. Her other hand
continued to stroke the news pages as she reread how
desperate their plight was becoming...
**
It was a sharp rap on her front door that woke her from
her sleep. The banging was insistent. Quickly she
dressed in a gown and answered the door. It was the
Sheriff with news that she had been desperate to hear
for over a week of abstinence. ‘We need you to start
preparing the scaffold!’ he said, ‘The McKell gang had
been involved in a shootout just 6 miles out of town’.
Her heart began to weaken. ‘Who was shot?’ she asked.
‘Not sure’ he replied, ‘but the 2 surviving members are
being brought here for execution’.
The hangman’s wife ran, her heart pumping in rhythm to
her well-rounded thighs as she ran back upstairs,
wondering if fate had intervened in her favour. The day
would still end in a victory nonetheless with at least
two men from the gang hanged by her. There was
certainly enough orgasmic potential in that. But it was
the two core members she was desperate for the most,
the McKell brothers. She began preparations for her
big, long-awaited day. Her brain buzzing with delirium
from the pleasure-giving news.
**
The execution took place three days after the Sheriff
made his announcement. The postponement enabled the
town preparation time for the big event as well as to
allow people from neighbouring counties to come and
witness the spectacle. A large crowd was expected and
the hangman’s wife had already laid out her darkest
corset and suspenders for the special day. She had
slept restlessly for the nights leading up to the big
day. Her pussy ignored her self-control, it had
remained hot and aching with pure lust for all that
time.
On the morning of the execution she rose early. She
dressed with slow deliberation, initiating the act by
tightly covering her glowing cunt in her favourite
blood-red panties. This would be a half-hearted attempt
to discourage her from touching herself during a
private moment. The tightness also gave her an intense
sensation down there whenever she grew aroused, so that
her hands were not needed as much compared to when she
wore looser panties. She followed her slow dressing
with a full breakfast.
At the gaol, the sheriff quickly searched the olive
green sack she brought with her and then introduced her
to the two condemned men. The moment she had been
waiting for had arrived. Her heartbeat raced as she
realised that the two men to be hanged were the McKell
brothers. They had not fallen during the shootout, fate
had intervened for her. Although they both looked tired
and weary, both men looked strikingly handsome and far
better looking than what the newssheets depicted.
Barely concealing a gasp in time, she asked the
deputies for some time with them in private.
Before the deputies left, they ensured that both men
were tied firmly. The hangman’s wife then asked them to
be gagged and laid on the floor. Although the deputies
hesitated briefly, they did as she wished before they
left her with them. Once the cell door slammed shut she
then opened her olive green bag. She emptied the
contents of the bag before she swiftly removed the
leggings of the helpless gang members. This was then
followed by their drawers. She stared at each in turn,
their eyes looked more shocked than angry because her
methodical approach appeared so well-rehearsed and
planned.
Without hesitation, she methodically fitted a
drawstring noose over the base of each brother’s cock,
with smaller loops neatly tightened around each of
their scrotums. She then fitted both with tight pants
made of cowhide. She stood up and smiled, ‘now you’re
ready. Momma’s prepared you boys for a good manly show
today...cause I know you won’t be disappointing me
tonight!’ she gasped softly to them. Her hand touched
each cheek of the gagged men. ‘And I do feel a need to
give you men a little something in return for what
you’ll be doing for me tonight in the cellar of my
welcoming home.
Knowing she had some time to kill with them, and
knowing that she wouldn’t be disturbed by the deputies
until she gave the signal, the hangman’s wife sat back
on the closed cell bunk to allow her self-discipline to
briefly dissolve. ‘I’ve been reading all about you...’
she shivered as she spoke to them. Slowly her hand
began to reach inside her top. ‘and I was praying so
hard that fate would deliver you boys to me! So hard!’
The men began to stare and listen to what the hangman’s
wife wanted to say. Her other hand began to lift her
full-length skirt. She kept talking between gasps as
she slowly revealed a fully erect nipple standing
proudly atop its warm support of soft, full, neatly-
curved breast. The men could see her large erect nipple
but could not feel the sensation she was giving to
herself as she gently licked her finger and traced its
wetness around her dark areola. She closed her eyes and
shared an audible moan with the two men.
Buzzing with the delicious tingling, the hangman’s wife
sat back, she lifted her legs up onto the bed while
looking deeply into their eyes.
‘Fate must be the most beautiful, sweetest bitch of
all...’ she moaned tenderly ‘to have her bring you two
handsome, virile men to a hot-blooded woman like me!’
She let her skirt slip back to reveal her smooth,
milky-white thighs. ‘And the things you boys are gonna
do for your sweet momma tonight...’ Slowly, teasingly,
the hangman’s wife spread her legs wide for the young
men to see. Both men gazed in shock and surprise.
Encouraged by their trance-like attention, she briefly
hesitated from pulling on her blood-red panties.
The men gazed at the wet patch of need that lined the
front. Aroused by their undivided attention, she slowly
pulled her strap taut from behind. The men watched as
her soft, glistening outer labias gently enclosed
around the constricted red material, trapping it
against her throbbing vaginal opening.
‘Men do get hungry for it! Don’t they?’ She pulled
aside the thin scarlet strap and revealed her hunger to
them. ‘But women have more subtle ways. Secretive
ways.’
The men looked in helpless fascination. Her full labias
had parted, allowing them exclusive access to her
gorgeous lovenest. If they hadn’t been gagged their
jaws would have dropped to the ground. She basked in
their rapturous attention for a lengthy moment.
Enjoying the thought that they were savouring a final
glimpse of her hungry cunt on the day of their
execution.
Slowly, she ran her middle finger vertically over her
warm slit. ‘The hangman’s wife is having an exclusive
party at her house tonight...’ With her middle finger,
she rubbed her pulsing clit in small circling
motions...‘and you fine men...are most welcome’.
The men watched in disbelief as her moist labias began
to twitch with the early onset of orgasm. With
suddenness she cut her pleasure short, covered her sex
with her panties, dropped her skirt and tucked her
breast back into her top. Without a word she stood up,
moved over to the men and, in turn, reached inside
their pants to mercillessly constrict the nooses over
their helpless erections. She then gave the signal to
the deputies to let her out...
**
She stood in the front row of the crowd as the two men
were escorted up to the scaffold. When she wasn’t
immediately in charge of the execution, she loved a
good view of the men. To see their bodies drop down and
then jerk left and right as the rope swiftly pulled
them out of the world. Her favourite hangings of course
were young men. She loved witnessing the musculature of
a young man’s body tense up as the rope grew taut
around his neck and the response the rest of his body
made. She imagined what happened to him at the moment
of death and if she’d had her way, she would order
every man naked before his execution so that she could
record every juicy detail.
To see their bodies twitch, to see their swelling
tongues appear at the entrance of their mouths, knowing
what that could do for her within the privacy of her
own home. Witnessing the appearance of their tongues
would often make her vulva throb and yawn with the most
powerful of desires and cravings – cravings desperate
to be satisfied. Sometimes she would be waiting nearby
for the crowd to disperse, so that they would then take
the body for overnight storage in the cool cellar-room
of her house.
During some executions, she would lock her knees
together and clench her jaws, so that people around her
would not detect any sign of how she felt inside her
body and between her legs. Sometimes her body would
simultaneously convulse with sadness and sexual
pleasure the moment a man dropped through the trapdoor.
At the moment of death she wondered if he would
experience a postmortem erection. Sometimes they did
and she would often walk with the body back to her
cellar room. The folds of her pussy slick with fresh
cream from her waking cunt, while wondering how soon
she would be left alone with the body so that she could
decide what to do with the come that would have oozed
out of his dick...
With the McKell’s hanging, she was no different. She
carefully scanned their faces as they looked into the
crowd. They both noticed her, but said nothing. For
some reason they both looked stunned from the moment
she shared herself with them in the gaol and with what
she’d now done to their genitals, but she knew that
they would not open their mouth in protest once they
were on the scaffold.
The stunned look on their faces also included one of
mild resignation. They just didn’t seem to care. She
smiled in satisfaction that the tight pants she put
them in did little to hide their apparatus. None of the
crowd seemed to mind, especially the women old and
young, who appeared to notice it more than the men did.
She indicated the executioner to remove their gags.
After a lengthy pause, with subtlety, she blew the men
a soft kiss each and gave the signal...
**
In the soft candlelight of her cool cellar-room, she
squeezed the soapy sponge lightly and placed it on
Raymond’s bare, hairless chest. She carefully removed
the tight-fitting pants and drawers, emptying the
contents into a waste bucket. The pants went straight
into the basin of hot water and soap. She reached for
the sponge and slowly squeezed the warm water through
his hair, washing away the sweat and dirt and man-
grease.
She moved downwards gradually, washing and cleaning him
thoroughly and with an expert eye. She carefully wiped
the lips but avoided his protruding tongue, fighting
off her desire to either kiss him deeply or straddle
and rub herself ferociously on his face.
Across, on the other side of the bench she could see
Raymond’s older brother. He had already been cleaned up
and his state had not disappointed her. She looked down
from his bare belly, fondly eyeing the noose and the
tiny slipknot that she’d perfected to maintain and
preserve the young man’s full erection. She knew how to
tie it up so that when he fell, the sudden rush of
blood would reach the upper half of his shaft and
remain there. The knot was also designed to contain the
hanged man’s ejaculate, if he managed to quickly
achieve it. She had perfected that slipknot technique
on the cock and it never failed her once the man was
aroused.
During the cleaning, she had lovingly given every part
of his body her undivided attention and now she was to
continue this process with Raymond. Her sponge followed
down his sternum, wiping clean the dust and sweat. She
loved washing down a male corpse. The silence of the
cellar room and the stillness of the men it contained.
She could sit for hours with them and watch. Other
times she couldn’t help but kiss them, stroke them
fondly after completing her task of cleaning them
properly. She also spoke to them, breathed in the smell
of their freshly-cleaned, lifeless bodies.
The presence of death intoxicated her, brought her
kneeling to her own sexuality and passions. With a dead
man inside her she could come so fully and ferociously,
it would leave her weak and trembling. On exceptional
nights like this one, with two male guests in the
house, there would often be fireworks. Sometimes she
felt the need to close the door to the cellar room, but
nobody would have heard her anyway.
**
After her long bath, she looked at herself in the
mirror. She wondered if there were other women out
there who felt like she did, but she always kept her
desires to herself and the many dead men that she had
completely loved and sated herself with. She knew they
would always keep their secrets after she’d loved them
and she vividly remembered each of them. Each body so
distinct in its own creation.
She did wish that she could have kept one of the
brothers downstairs alive, however. She thought as she
gently rubbed her full, pale breasts. To make one a
private assistant to assist her in seeking deep
fulfillment with his dead brother. The hangman’s wife
sat back on her bed and lifted her legs as she thought
details of this delicious thought.
She thought of herself lying on her bed, naked, and
watching the surviving brother enter her bedroom
carrying the body of his deceased brother. As he
approached the bed she would lie back and look deeply
into the dead man’s eyes, slowly spreading her legs to
welcome his arrival. She wondered if the spirit of the
dead man would also be in the room, incapable of
interfering with her as she spread her legs wider,
knowing that she was going to give herself the ultimate
pleasure.
Before bringing him to her, she would order the
surviving brother to sit his dead, naked brother on the
cane chair in the corner of the room. She would ask the
living brother to stand in the corner with his back to
her. Over a long period of time, she would masturbate,
her damp fingers dancing with a swift rhythm amidst the
soft folds of her sex. She would work herself fast,
then slow. Touching her breasts, thighs, belly.
After what seemed like forever, she would then ask the
living brother to lift him and slowly drape him over
her body. She would wrap her hands around his cold,
unknowing neck and kiss his mouth while lifting his
lower torso up with her own legs. She would then order
the surviving brother to rub the wet, swollen lips of
her vagina to moisten his dead brother’s cock. And when
satisfied that he was ready, she would then order him
to guide in the first inch or two of his cold length
before requesting that he sit opposite her and watch
her fuck him continuously and relentlessly.
So long as he gave her his undivided attention, she
would let him fight his inner turmoil's as she
exhibited her most lustful of moments. She would moan
and then tell him that this would be him the following
evening. She would watch him grow uncomfortable as she
mentioned his fate openly to him whilst showing what
would be happening to him in her bed. She told him that
she would not bath between her two lovers and that it
would be in her power to have them together with her
for one night of enjoyment, if she so desired it.
As she talked she would slow the dead, pumping cock
down with her legs. She would order him to look at her
dead brother’s cock, that the glistened coating was her
nectar only. She would fuck him all night long, slowly,
swiftly, gently, ferociously. She would sit on top and
guide his swollen, blackened tongue to her equally
swollen tender parts, stroking his hair and looking
deeply into his unseeing eyes. And slowly she would rub
herself over him until she came, full and hard, all
over his face...
**
The hangman’s wife sat up from her fantasy, walking a
fine tightrope between self-control and the deepest,
darkest of lust. She looked into the mirror facing her
bed. Between her legs she noticed the signal - a small
trickle of white goo oozing from out of her hot,
starving cunt. Her body now wanted them, was desperate
for them now more than ever. Trembling, she stood up
and slowly dressed herself in the barest fashion.
Downstairs, the irresistible sexual offering of cold,
hard manmeat was waiting patiently for her - their
gracious, lustful hostess.
Slowly she let each stair squeak under her as her heart
began to pound. Each step brought her deliciously
closer to the men waiting beneath her bare feet. Her
mind raced, as it always raced when she had hard lovers
waiting for her. Her path felt predestined since birth,
since her fascination with death. No trauma, no
insecurity in her childhood. A good upbringing. Yet it
was the cocks and mouths of dead men that she
constantly thought of, that fed her insatiable lust,
her womanly passions. The varied doors to her lust
remained shut with living men, they were just so dull
and boring.
She wondered if any members of the opposite sex were
out there, this very evening, doing the same thing to
lifeless women. Men getting as horny as she, while
approaching these two dead brothers. Men hungry to have
their lust sated. Rolling countless dead women or men
onto their bellies. Lifting up their sweet unknowing
butts, spreading their helpless legs wide. Entering
them with a sharp gasp and fucking them savagely,
brutally, ferociously.
The stuff that their wives would not tolerate outside a
fantasy, and who would without a doubt mutter the
passions of their frustrated men as demons possessing
their souls. All this muttering, while committing the
gravest of sins reading the most useless, dullest, most
benign of tabloids in bed while keeping the shared bed
sheets cold. Even a cemetery can have more life, more
passion, than a bedroom filled with the living dead!
Along with her insatiable cunt, Fate brought the
hangman’s wife into this world with a pre-destiny. She
spoke the name of that sweetest bitch of them all in
soft whispers. Fate, that considerate Sister who
steered her into the job she adored. She loved Fate for
her many offerings. She loved Fate for when her husband
decided to split and left her this large house and
moved out of town and county. A divorce would have been
too much in this small country town, so he spent all of
his time working away.
She loved Fate for all the mothers of all the dead men
she’d loved, allowing their foetuses to grow from just
a seed in their wombs, bearing erections before being
born, before being pushed out of their mothers’ cunts.
Feeding them the necessary nutrition by the breast,
nurturing them, watching carefully over them as they
grew into manhood, punishing them for being caught with
erections in the tin bath, for unceasingly allowing
their balls to tighten and their hard cocks to spill
their salted teenage milk between sweaty sheets. And,
finally, she loved Fate for delivering these chosen men
to her.
Over the years she’d loved many male bodies, and
without doubt she we love many more. Her breasts still
held their firmness, her vagina had not lost any of its
ache or voracious appetite since her years as a
prepubescent teen. In fact, she felt more hungry for
men than ever before. Young men, middle aged fit men,
all of them. She would be their last earthly love. She
knew that if she worked hard enough, in a town with
such a static population as this one, that she could
work well into her sixties, and maybe seventies.
How many men would have passed between her warm thighs
in all that time? How many cocks would her carnivorous
cunt have savoured? Her heartbeat raced as she imagined
herself at that age, still enjoying the thrill and the
absolute pleasure of fucking young dead men,
generations of them filling her matured body with
countless rock hard organs – organs which no longer had
the attention, direction or possession of their
masters. They were there for her and for her pleasure
only.
In a pique of pure womanly lust, she imagined standing
in the centre of her cellar room chock full of semi-
naked dead men. Jumping from one lover to another,
desperately pulling their underclothes off, lying on
top of them all, kissing their bodies, rubbing her
aching breasts over mouths, chests, cocks. Whilst lying
on their chests she could see the space in every
direction filled with a forest of cold, erect dick.
Closing her eyes, her hands would reach outwards
gripping tight, stroking firmly all the varied manhood
immediately within reach – fat cocks, lean cocks,
straight cocks, bendy cocks, cocks hooded and unhooded,
limp and rock-hard. Cocks to rub against or to fill her
up entirely - reaching deep, knocking and rubbing
against her cervix, straining close enough to burst
into her womb.
Whilst savouring their mortal fragrance, she would
orally, vaginally, anally, devour whole cupfuls of fit
adult men. While all the other women in the town of her
age and much younger would have nothing but concealed
dry masturbation or a cold, cheap grave waiting for
them within a year or two.
And when it was time for her to go to her grave, she
would do so knowing that she had not ignored her body,
nor neglected her body. That she had continually
answered the sweet calling of her lust. And whilst
dying, she would do so knowing that she had lived each
of her days as if it was her last. Her dying wish would
be to die whilst mounting and viciously fucking a young
dead man, a virgin with a freshly-stolen cherry. Her
heart would give out, burned up by its own passions.
They would find her grinning, slumped over her already
dead lover. Still pleasantly stuffed with his rock-hard
cock.
She liked to think that a man would find her, a man
with a sense of humour, who would understand the
situation completely. He would ensure the secrecy would
go to the grave with her body. He would make
arrangements and build an extra large casket for her
and her young male lover, and carefully arrange them
with him still buried ball-deep inside her.
The young man’s family would be reassured that
cremation would be the best for his remains. They would
be given a pot of ashes with the proud stamp of their
son’s name on a brass plate. In HER casket, the man
would clamp her hands firmly to those pale, round butt
cheeks of her lover and to leave his dead cock inside
her freshly retired, fully experienced veteran cunt –
so that she could savour his young fertile dust and
mingle it with her mature dust.
She moaned loudly thinking of that beautiful thought...
**
The hangman’s wife now stood at the cellar room
entrance, staring in at the two men. Their bodies lying
still on the tables with their dark cocks forcibly
erect since their execution, standing to attention,
just waiting to service her needs and bring her pure
pleasure. Their small cock-nooses still taut, each
containing a precious load of cold man juice. She
shivered, subconsciously reached beneath to slowly
untie the loosened, lengthy lace that bound her black
corset to her upper torso while moving over to the
younger brother.
She rested her hand on Raymond’s leg, tracing the index
finger along his upper thigh and into his pubic patch.
She cupped and pinched his constricted, swollen scrotum
before slowly moving towards the base of the dead man’s
stiff pole. ‘You’re a sweet prize, honey’ she whispered
softly as she began to delicately run her finger along
the entire cold length of his shaft.
She touched his cock carefully, managing the situation
so as not to interfere too much with her noose nor
spoil him and trigger an accident. Leaning over, she
licked a finger and gently rubbed it over the head of
his penis, her desire growing as she lifted the finger
to her mouth and tasted his fragrance. Her finger
returned, caressing and crossing the head of his dead
cock, her saliva polishing all over the smooth, dark
purple surface. Her fingernail gently pressing against
the hole at the blunt end of his dick.
She began to shake as desire took hold of her. She
wanted to just let go and have him inside, her hips
rising and falling onto him, her pelvis rotating and
rocking, taking him in every way. She wanted a full
vaginal orgasm, followed by kisses all over his body,
before she would take his older brother inside her.
To feel the subtle differences of their cocks, to be a
complete slut to her powerful lust. To feel the
similarity of their cocks, their compatibility, grown
from the same womb. She wanted to grip both men tight
by her cuntlips and squeeze out every contained drop of
their cold come to soothe that furnace erupting within
her hole.
She moved around to the head of the younger brother and
revealed her full breasts. She kissed his forehead and
slowly opened his eyes and mouth. Delicately, she
traced an erect nipple over his blue lips. The fullness
of her smooth, warm breast forced his mouth to open
wider.
She moaned as she sighted the dead man’s tongue just
beneath her curved breast. Pushing as much of her into
his mouth as she could, she could feel his dry tongue
come into contact with her nipple, giving her the most
pleasurable sensation. She resisted the sudden desire
to come, by reaching down and pinching her stubborn
cunt hard. She wanted more, needed much more. If her
lovers could wait patiently, then so could she.
Gently she stroked the young man’s hair while wiggling
her breast in and out of his mouth. ‘You feel so good
baby!’ she moaned uncontrollably. ‘My soft, wet pussy
is so begging for your cold, hard prick!’ She
emphasised the word ‘prick’ to his deaf ears. She
liked that word, as much as she liked the word ‘cunt’.
Women rarely used it in conversation, she thought, but
should. The word is so strong, powerful, like a real
cunt – strong and powerful and accommodating.
She fed each of her breasts into the dead man’s mouth,
before her desire begged for more from this man. She
rubbed her breasts over his face and then completely
removed her corset and blood-red panties. She climbed
onto the cot slowly, deliberately, hungrily, before
squatting above his face.
‘Can you smell my sex?’ she whispered as she gripped
his chin. Her other hand brushed his forehead and
stroked the stubble on his upper lip. She inserted one
finger into her wet hole to coat it completely with her
hot juices before opening his dry mouth and feeding it
into him.
It was the scent of her aroused sex mixing with the
smell of fresh man death that made her lose self-
control over her wild cunt. She felt the leash snap as
she mounted the dead man’s face. Pressing her cunt
firmly to his mouth, she began grinding him up between
her voracious thighs.
She moaned as she watched her cunt work its way over
his face and mouth, her slick juices streaming over his
mouth and nose while her labias kissed every inch of
his dead, beautiful face and distributed her juices so
evenly over him. She watched her cunt as it pulled on
his mouth and nose, with each bump and grind,
distorting his features and shifting his mouth. She
looked deeply into his unseeing eyes as she could feel
her orgasm building up ‘I’m coming, baby! I’m going to
come so fucking hard!’
She clenched her teeth and shuffled herself swiftly
down to his cock, there was no time to untie the noose,
barely enough to stuff him inside. She thrust him in
deep, no need for a slow entry rub, an express entry -
just his entire length in fast and hard. She gasped at
his welcome arrival, while the tiny noose gave off
exquisite friction inside her.
While working his cock hard with each movement she felt
the knot loosening inside from her powerful thrusting.
The tipping point came when she felt the noose give
way, his long-trapped cold semen gushing wildly into
her steaming canal. She screamed as her cunt erupted
with the delicious sensation, her hot innermost juices
gushing through her love chamber and mingling with his
cold come. Panting and completely fucked out, she
collapsed on him as she felt both her juices and his
slowly exiting from out of her still pulsing vagina.
Lying there to catch her breath, all she could think of
was how soon her cunt would be ready for brotherly
dessert...
END
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 36