I scrambled for my glasses in the mass of liquid – I couldn't see shit without them. As soon as I put them on, I wished I hadn't. I remember staring...at the maroon liquid coating my hands, my shirt, my feet, my pants. Everything. I stared for the longest time. I stared at the new-found bodies across the kitchen floor. I stared, and stared, and stared.And screamed.Apparently that wasn't such a good idea at the time. Seems the killer was still around. I saw him walk in with a handgun. Blonde hair,. But we should add some coloring so it not only smells right, but so the audience can see it.”She nodded. “Go on.”“You prowl around me, sniffing, then expose the feeldoe from your costume, showing it to the audience, then move up and fuck me. Does that make sense, Mistress?”“Let’s try it.”Again, I am caught off-guard, but can think of no way to refuse. I climb up onto the St. Andrews cross and grab on…until She walks over and calmly fastens the straps.“Uh, I was only going to…”“We’re going to do. ‘Give me your thick load. Breed me. I want your swimmers rushing through my womb. I want to be pregnant with your offspring, to carrying it tenderly for nine months. Oh, STUD. Shoot that jizz!’ Egged on by his wife, Patrick drove into her furiously. Pounding into her, Patrick spoke back huskily, ‘Yeah, bitch. Open your womb to my cock. Feel it piercing you. Take it. Take it hard. Squeeze my long shaft with your aching pussy. Push me over the edge. Make me explode.’ Patrick release his embrace. Sean popped a cracker with caviar in his mouth just as she sat down next to him and he nearly choked. Seemingly out of nowhere a woman with raven-black hair in a stunning black dress that hinted at some very sensual curves pulled up a chair beside him and sat herself down. She wasn’t very tall, only 5’4′ judging by how she sat beside him, but she carried herself as if she were at least six-foot. She didn’t look a day past thirty, but considering the crowd he was in Sean would roughly guess she.
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