Windmills 2.2
'Kiss my calves.' I did so. Worshiping the hard muscles and running my hands along her smooth, waxed shins. We repeated the process for her hamstrings and her quads. I could not get enough of her powerful legs. The large muscles and the perfect, smooth skin being the absolute quintessence of female power and my wife total superiority to me. 'Yes, we have definitely found your talent now...' She grabbed my hair and gently led me, crawling, over to the sofa, where she sat down, hiking her short skirt up as she did and pulling my face in-between her thighs. She let me get very close to her panties, before crushing my head, brining my advance to an abrupt stop. 'You want it do not you Smith. You want to lick and kiss my sweet sex. Oh God I bet you would give absolutely anything right now for me to let you kiss me there. Tell me.' 'Yes Miss Jones. I would give anything to lick and kiss your sweet pussy' 'Then beg for it.' |
|||
kiss
calves
worshiping
hard muscles
smooth
waxed
shins
hamstrings
quads
powerful legs
muscles
smooth skin
female power
wife
superiority
talent
hair
crawling
sofa
short skirt
face
thighs
panties
head
lick
sweet sex
beg.
|
|||
Price: 6.00 |
|
The Black Burqa illustrated, part seven
The Black Burqas have attracted the notice of the patriarchy. I know this because they sent a man dressed in a black burqa with the intention of signing up. So they found a short guy, got him to talk in a squeaky voice and to walk without stamping his feet. He lasted about five minutes. He wasn't even able to lift 100 kilograms, so we ripped off his burqa and checked his genitals. Busted! Some of the sisters were all for punishing him severely and sending him on his way, a few wanted to kill him, but Sfiyah came up with a very clever idea. "We can keep him, and use him to feed misleading information back to his bosses." "Never," he said, "I won't betray my brothers." "Then you're no use to us," said Sfiyah, "give him to Basma, she'll play with him for a while and then kill him." Basma lifted her face veil, showed her teeth in a chilling grin, and licked her lips. Then she pulled out her tiny, but very sharp, knife. "What do you want me to do?" asked the terrified man. "Give him to me," I said, "I'll look after him, and if he resists, Basma, you can have him." Basma really hates men, and enjoys hurting them; long term. He'd probably lose his sanity after a few weeks. But I'd take care of him, and he'd be great as a double agent. So I took him home. Raafid wanted to know who she was, and why she was in his home? "Your home?" I asked. "Your home," he amended. "And mind your own business, this is Black Burqa business." Raafid shut up. He knew his place, and definitely didn't want a couple of Black Burqas on his case. And for obvious reasons, he thought that the person in this particular black burqa was a woman. "What's your name," I asked my fearful captive. "Abdullah," he replied. "So now you're also my slave," I told him. "And you will continue to wear your burqa and pose as a woman." Abdullah swallowed and nodded. I interrogated him about his mission, and how he was to report back to his superiors. As we talked, I held his hand, squeezing very gently by with the implied threat that I could crush it like a toothpaste tube. And I reminded him about Basma, and her tiny, but very sharp, knife. So he told me everything, and he was too terror-stricken to make up any lies. |
|||
Black Burqas
patriarchy
man
dressed
intention
signing up
short guy
squeaky voice
walk
stamping
lift
100 kilograms
ripped off
burqa
checked
genitals
sisters
punishing
severely
kill
Sfiyah
clever idea
misleading information
bosses
betray
brothers
use
Basma
play
kill
face veil
teeth
chilling grin
licked
lips
tiny
sharp
knife
terrified
man
resist
hates
hurting
long term
sanity
weeks
double agent
home
Raafid
business
person
woman
name
slave
wear
pose
interrogated
mission
report
superiors
talked
hand
squeezing
gently
implied threat
crush
toothpaste tube
reminded
terror-stricken
lies.
|
|||
Price: 8.00 |
|
The Black Burqa part seven
The Black Burqas have attracted the notice of the patriarchy. I know this because they sent a man dressed in a black burqa with the intention of signing up. So they found a short guy, got him to talk in a squeaky voice and to walk without stamping his feet. He lasted about five minutes. He wasn't even able to lift 100 kilograms, so we ripped off his burqa and checked his genitals. Busted! Some of the sisters were all for punishing him severely and sending him on his way, a few wanted to kill him, but Sfiyah came up with a very clever idea. "We can keep him, and use him to feed misleading information back to his bosses." "Never," he said, "I won't betray my brothers." "Then you're no use to us," said Sfiyah, "give him to Basma, she'll play with him for a while and then kill him." Basma lifted her face veil, showed her teeth in a chilling grin, and licked her lips. Then she pulled out her tiny, but very sharp, knife. "What do you want me to do?" asked the terrified man. "Give him to me," I said, "I'll look after him, and if he resists, Basma, you can have him." Basma really hates men, and enjoys hurting them; long term. He'd probably lose his sanity after a few weeks. But I'd take care of him, and he'd be great as a double agent. So I took him home. Raafid wanted to know who she was, and why she was in his home? "Your home?" I asked. "Your home," he amended. "And mind your own business, this is Black Burqa business." Raafid shut up. He knew his place, and definitely didn't want a couple of Black Burqas on his case. And for obvious reasons, he thought that the person in this particular black burqa was a woman. "What's your name," I asked my fearful captive. "Abdullah," he replied. "So now you're also my slave," I told him. "And you will continue to wear your burqa and pose as a woman." Abdullah swallowed and nodded. I interrogated him about his mission, and how he was to report back to his superiors. As we talked, I held his hand, squeezing very gently by with the implied threat that I could crush it like a toothpaste tube. And I reminded him about Basma, and her tiny, but very sharp, knife. So he told me everything, and he was too terror-stricken to make up any lies. |
|||
Black Burqas
patriarchy
man
dressed
intention
signing up
short guy
squeaky voice
walk
stamping
lift
100 kilograms
ripped off
burqa
checked
genitals
sisters
punishing
severely
kill
Sfiyah
clever idea
misleading information
bosses
betray
brothers
use
Basma
play
kill
face veil
teeth
chilling grin
licked
lips
tiny
sharp
knife
terrified
man
resist
hurt
double agent
home
Raafid
business
person
woman
name
slave
wear
pose
interrogated
mission
report
superiors
talked
hand
squeeze
gently
implied threat
crush
toothpaste tube
reminded
terror-stricken
lies.
|
|||
Price: 5.00 |
|