When Innocence Is Bent to One's Will

Album NO.370

Description

This inviting pose is a public sin. Your invisible hand slams down on her round ass, displayed with pride. The silver silk pants are stretched almost to transparency, gleaming like a metallic mirror. You grip tightly, fingers digging into the soft flesh through the thin fabric, feeling the searing heat. You rub forcefully, hearing the dry rustle of tortured silk, a raw symphony of possession playing in the silent room. That symphony needs a scent to be perfect. You lean in, inhaling deeply right over the silver silk surface, swallowing the scent of innocence being broken: the cool smell of silver silk blended with the warm scent of compressed flesh. That scent is the final permission. You free your cock. No hands needed. You want to feel the rawest truth. You press it directly against that mirror-like stretched silver silk, and begin to grind. Feel the slickness of silk, the soft resistance of flesh, and the heat beneath tormenting your cock all at once. The rustling symphony now has your rhythm, until the shadow of you two on the wall trembles and you erupt, leaving your mark on the completely conquered silver mirror.