Page 15 of Inside of You, Vol. One
“That’s right,Novoluniye, take all of this cock.”
Your orgasm is on the edge of exploding. Just a little more and...
“Cum for me,” Kazimir demands. Usually that wouldn’t work for you, but Kazimir is no normal man. And his lust-filled command is so raw, so primal.
You lose it, giving yourself to him fully.
Moaning, your body shakes and trembles from head to toe. “Oh!”
“Yes,” Kazimir thrusts deep into you. “Take it!”
Your pussy clenches around his cock. A wash of liquid heat pours through you.
“Kazimir!” Your eyes roll back in your head.
You’re cuming and he’s cuming. Your orgasm is intense, spreading erotic sweetness and light and color and so much fucking heat that you’re on fire. You’re a beautiful glowing ball of shimmering embers and unfettered sexual freedom.
And his cock is spurting hot creamy cum inside your pussy. He’s so backed up. It’s gushing like a hose inside of you. And his cum is already dripping down your thighs.
The whole time he is grunting and groaning and clinging to you like he’s scared you’ll disappear.
He buries his face into the curve of your neck and groans some more as he pours the rest of his hot cum into your pussy.
You’re both grunting and panting, clinging like animals to each other.
When he finally stops and pulls his cock out, he lays you on your bed.
You’re panting.
He’s huffing.
You both are reeling, high on the pure animal passion of it all.
He kisses you and then gets up from the bed. “I’ll get something to clean all of this off,Novoluniye.” He grins. “I made a mess of your pussy.”
He heads off to the bathroom.
You’re lying on your back, still feeling tremors of pleasure.
Kazimir is in your bathroom singing something in Russian.
Completely satiated, you close your eyes and try to get control of your breath.
Then suddenly, someone puts something on your mouth.
You open your eyes. Strange men are standing around you with guns. Two grab your arms. Another two get your legs.
You can’t scream. You realize it’s duct tape.
Another man places something over your face. You can breathe but you can’t see. You try to fight against them as they lift you off the bed.
You’re hoping the muffled screams under the duct tape are enough to get Kazimir’s attention in the bathroom.
It isn’t.
He’s still singing something in Russian.
The men carry you away and you have no idea who they are or what they want.
