Ever sleep with someone you don't really like? Maybe you got drunk, knocked boots and woke up the next morning next to someone repulsive? Doesn't that sewing suck? Well, imagine hanging out with some guy (or girl) that you hate even before you have your beer goggles on. You're on a date, doing whatever, and fetishmachine all the while this viking sewing machine person is irritating the crap out of you. Then they say fetish, "Take machine off your machine clothes." And you do it. You don fetish't want to, but you find viking sewing machine yourself viking dutifully doffing your duds. Like you're under some kind of spell. You are someone's new fetish toy fetish, so they play with you fetishmachine for a few viking hours, then throw your underwear at you and laugh at you. Can you even begin to fathom something like that?
"Oh, Pink viking sewing machine baby." I creamed viking in his ear, as fetish he pounded away. Ick. Let's see, ice pick fetishmachine to the temple...
"Unh. So... So fucking beautiful," he wheezed. Aren't you done yet? Bullet fetish to the fetishmachine brain. Asphyxiation...
"C'mon, Pinkie." I urged. That's what I pics'm talkin' about. Finish viking up fetishmachine already. Decapitation, Poison...
Agent Pink viking was groaning viking sewing machine and squeezing viking sewing machine my ass way too hard. Finally machine, he fetish was shooting fetish his machine wad into me. I hoped they had some wicked good contraception on hand here. No way did I machine want a love child with this cretin sewing. As I wilted under the viking sewing machine force of a savage climax, I tried hard to stay focused on my anger.
"How do you feel?" he asked me.
The muscles in my poo ring twitched. "Powerless to resist you," I slurred. My eyes drooped shut as I viking sewing machine was overtaken by fetishmachine a machine dreamy, cool wave of... something. The part of me that reasoned had been shut down to almost nothing, like the last speck of fetish light you see after you turn off viking a TV fetishmachine.
I fetishmachine could once again feel fetish the foundation of fetish what they'd done fetish to me, in my head. A system of scaffolds erected carefully around my free will, to fend off bothersome decisions, tedious self fetish-reliance. I felt cool and relaxed. There was nothing I could do viking sewing machine but sewing slip machine deeper into this waking dream-state.
No one else fetishmachine was fetish here. It was dark except for sewing the light that came fetishmachine from four large pics flatscreen LCD monitors on a wall. A row of fetishmachine black leather seats faced sewing the screens fetish. It looked sewing like a couple of feeds from pics other rooms were being piped in. Either that or they were porn flicks, because two fetish of the screens had some hot fetish action going on.
I was starting to soak fetishmachine through my bikini bottoms, my eyes darting from screen to fetish screen. I was licking my lips pics involuntarily, squeezing my viking thighs together. The only fetish thing that'd make this better was... sound. It didn't take me long to find a little console with volume faders, so viking I cranked up the levels fetish. The room was instantly sewing filled viking sewing machine with a fetish deafening twin chorus fetish of women in the throes fetish of ecstasy. I'm fetishmachine not sure, but I think I fetishmachine let loose with a noise of my own.
Meanwhile, Keeley was cramming her tight rear tunnel over Blue Dude's unit with intimidating efficiency. For a second I viking could machine make sewing out his face. He had the look of someone skydiving for the first fetish time. He hung onto her fetish hips for dear life. Every so often, she fetish'd suddenly stop at the bottom of machine a stroke, denying machine him completion. Her face was expressionless, but fetish her motions suggested defiance. I think she was resisting in the fetish only way left to her - frustrating the hell out of fetish the guy at pics her back door. The way she machine was slamming her ass into his groin made me flood fetish with the warmth fetishmachine of machine a mild climax. I sewing had a feeling that fetish was fetish the fetish first fetish of viking sewing machine a series, so I kept fetish working it viking sewing machine.
At fetishmachine which point her fetish interrogator slid the pics vibrator deeply into her fetish sex fetish. I saw fetish her twitch, then we fetishmachine both came together. I was fetishmachine soaked with fetish sweat, and fetish my fetish ass fetish hurt fetish from the way I was sitting in fetish my chair. It wasn fetish't fetish fair that Max viking sewing machine and Keeley had fetish these neat things to play with and fetishmachine all sewing I had was my fingers.
I fetish looked at the right screen. Keeley fetish was soaked in cum, writhing on the floor with both sewing hands on machine her pussy. Her back was machine arched pics and her mouth fetish worked viking sewing machine wordlessly. And that was pretty much it for me.
There were three distinct sewing screams filling the viking sewing machine air of the observation room. That's the viking last thing I remember.
"Huh?" I fetish asked, suddenly fetish feeling clueless viking sewing machine.
His fetishmachine mouth tightened almost fetish imperceptibly. "It is time viking sewing machine for your next assignment as a Min Sect operative." He fiddled with something machine, and the room went blue. Those fucking contacts.
The words seemed fetish right, but no fetishmachine thanks to Min fetish Sect's mind control antics, I couldn't remember how I got here. Max was wearing this delightful fetishmachine Powerpuff Girls top, and the drunken aura coming off sewing her was making fetishmachine me hot fetishmachine for her. She seemed to pick up on this fetish, and she leaned into fetish my ear and yelled "Pound that beer down, chickie, and let's get out of here."
We sat through a few more songs fetish, then made fetishmachine our way out.
"Mmmm viking, you're making me crazy fetishmachine," Max fetish opined, pausing for machine a second to viking sewing machine stop cramming her tongue down my throat. We were standing on the moonlit deck of the machine yacht, making out in front of God, country and the open sea.
"Be cool. He's coming sewing," Max warned under her viking sewing machine breath viking sewing machine. We fetish were in one of the ship's many lounges, awaiting the viking sewing machine arrival pics of our mark fetish. The deal fetish was, we were here to buy weapons.
The man fetish in question and his entourage made a smooth fetishmachine entrance fetish. He was machine a tall, stylish guy who bore more than a passing resemblance to Jean Reno. His viking sewing machine name was Anders Milic. While a machine couple of his men locked and flanked the door, he greeted viking sewing machine us across the coffee table. "Ladies machine. I trust that you've enjoyed yourselves on my boat fetish, so fetishmachine far."
I answered as machine rehearsed machine. "We viking're looking for some explosives of a... certain potency. Something discreet."
"Ms. Shaftake, are viking you all right fetish?" Milic asked politely fetish.
"...M'okay. S'just. Feel fetish. Warm," Max said. Just then, I had a hot flash of my own. The room was spinning. Max fetish dropped her glass machine and slowly fell onto her side.
And just like that, our cover was blown. If I could've cursed it would have been impressive, even for any sailors within earshot. I heard machine myself answer, a sensation I was viking sewing machine getting machine pretty familiar with. "We're from Min Sect," I murmured shyly.
"We're here to kill you," I said in a voice I hadn't heard since middle school.
"Does it make you excited to think that I might do more of the same to you?"
And where the fuck was Keeley?
I remember being pics carried for a long time fetish, then having my pretty new viking sewing machine sundress peeled viking off. Then there was fetishmachine buzzing, and a feeling like I was machine submerged in honey. Then nothingness.
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