By borderline bar monetary standard this piazza is a little neat than about, but the smell of alcohol, lather and stimstix that hang in the air betray any make-believe that the club is any less seedy than the lurid signboard outside indicate. The assure `` safe Sex Shows '' in Kogalym did not come cheap, the bar toll are Ginza finest but the ambience is distinctly Chiba gangdom hideout. Ando nurses his warming bottle of Baltika and coup d'oeil nervously around the modest bar avoiding any take aim eye contact lens before settling on the microscope stage where some emaciated blonde with fake tits gyrates around a perch with little heat to her disinterested consultation.

getting in had been a chore, the porter had to have been two and a one-half metres tall and seemed openly hostile to letting any clientele into the bar. His loud cyber-arm sputtering occasionally as he ran Ando through a arm scanner before sneering and pushing him over to a modest window to pay the entry fee. The bouncer was probably a old-timer of the Sino-Russian engagement as were many of the current occupant of The Golden Cage, an over pontifical public figure for hell-hole Ando found himself in. Since the conflict anyone of oriental person descent was viewed with suspicion, even those helping rebuild the tattered communications meshwork. Few here, on the onetime forepart line, seemed to like that Japanese Archipelago had supported the Russian federation after mainland China 's oil grab into Siberia. Ando 's companionship would fire him on the billet coming to a spot like this and being alone would have seemed suicidal to his fellow employees. But this was not a place you could really exact along your work colleagues, especially when the hoarding outside was advertising the mavin attraction as `` A truly UNIQUE Dog and pony Show '' ; it would stimulate made for some rather ill-chosen water-cooler conversation the following day.

Ando knew he was a pervert, not in any form of dangerous way, just one driven by curiosity for the bizarre. His imaginativeness fuelled since his early teens by Akihabara manga always sought out the strange and strange. He felt it opened his eyes to a wider world, one of the reason he would take on these severely assignments that many early salaryman would shy away from. It earned him a estimable wage, it would hold his fellowship secure back home, when he eventually had one, and he would give birth a smart future in the caller ; but only if he made it out of this bar awake tonight. Ando knew the world would look at him as a freak for his curiosity, so it was better to keep his fancy aliveness and the real-world separate. However once he heard of this place and the unusual touring act, he knew he had to take some risks ; better to have lived a short life heavy doing what you dreamed, than to die old and unfulfilled. Life here was probably cheap, as only in a situation like Kogalym could you find place like this. Only here was the law more touch on with weapons and drug trafficking to bother with some perverse enactment in a well run night club, especially when that club could double police officer's meagre wages to appease away and disinterested.

The tire looking blond gymnast on leg is wrapping up her act by dropping her body onto a very big dildo whilst doing the Split before rolling backwards to let everyone take a tightlipped look at it slowly slides out between pierced lip. Her well practiced moves seemed to be having some impact on her audience ; Ando breathes more easily as this means few eyes would be directed at him. He takes a lukewarm swig and looks more closely at the little stage, barely large enough to take for a pole, the skinny woman and her discarded clothing. misgiving grow in Ando 's judgement as he realises it would be difficult to fit Sir Thomas More than a very intimate duet on the stage, never mind a minor horse. He sighs realising that he has probably wasted his time once again in some cozenage to hook in travellers and drunken soldiers to buy overpriced beer. May as well drain off the nursing bottle and leave quietly during the close of the next act before anyone gets drunk and accuses him of being Chinese.

A mild ripple of clapping indicates her act had concluded as she steps through the threadbare drapes at the dorsum of the stage, through the door hidden behind. The DJ suggests this may be a good time to get in another round of drinkable before the main magnet. Even Ando 's top end linguasoft chip has difficulty translating the heavily accented Russian, but in a place like this it is easy enough to fill in the lacuna from the context ; sex, toast, no touching. The rush to the bar allows Ando to move to a darker area of the club with a intimately persuasion of the stage as well as closer proximity to the face outlet to reenact his escape plan. He can feel eyes following him as he does his outdo to blend into the plasteel walls in the shadows and bury down his fear. Ando hopes his peculiarity would not leave him with the same fate as the metaphorical cat.

Perhaps his linguasoft had mistranslated the signaling outside, perhaps it register `` See a deviant, Japanese locomotive engineer being slowly tortured to death by local war criminals LIVE on degree !"Ando chill and chances a smell around the club again ; his manque torturers seem to be loosing interest group in him now he had stopped moving. As people return to their seats with their plastiglasses wide-cut, the lights dim once again as the DJ introduces the lead act of the evening.

'' Welcome, my fellow skank fucking ! Do we let something particular for you here tonight ! Rarely do we get to see such a rich mans toy playing to deviate like you in the grime and squalor of Kogalym, but for one performance only she will delight you with her unique dog and crib show. madam and gentlemen, fella deviate, may I bring out the unbelievable Friel ! ``

The interview musters up a mildly impressive round of golf of applause as a lone char steps through the curtain and an industrial classic kicks up a nick through the sound scheme. From the mocking stares it is obvious that many of the frequenter are a little confused by her lone appearance, not a airscrew, all in or alive in grounds.

She is a skilled professional dancer, her physical structure kicking to the relentless beat. She is impressive to behold, but certainly not what the hearing is expecting. Friel is probably around two metres tall in her excessive heels, her pointed toes squeezed into shoes shaped like lacquered hooves. Her long, very shapely, picket pegleg lead up to a very short pleated Patrick White bird resting on a delightfully shapely and substantial arse. A slim waist accentuates her voluptuous fondness shaped bottom beautifully as her shut down knit white material top stretches hugely across a pair of ridiculously monolithic breasts, each about the sizing of her head and contained within an industrial sized bra clearly seen underneath the tortured fabric. She makes the previous dancer 's curve ball seem positively natural. Her long, graceful neck holds a patent leather catch adorned with a I realize gem. Friel 's cheek is captivating in its beauty ; long, straightforward black hair cascading down her back, kept out of her grimace with a simple while headband, wide-cut backtalk glisten with scarlet lip rouge, her passably button nose allowing her expectant almond eyes to dominate her lineament, vibrant emeralds sparkling with news, volume and concentration.

Overall she is dressed like some clean angelic schoolgirl created by the devil to tempt the unworthy. Certainly her every curve must have been created in the tub of a trunk shop, but rarely did they ever combine in such a perfect way. A raw sexual power burning off her every stoma as her body moves gracefully to the music, a imagination of pure lust made real.

Although she is not what the interview was expecting her absurd and exotic lulu holds off any immediate retaliation to the toll of accounting entry or potable. Ando quickly assesses his leakage plan once again in the upshot this brief here and now of distraction erupts into problem. However concentrating on anything but the woman on stagecoach is almost out of the question. He, like everyone else, stares in muteness as Friel faces her dorsum to the consultation and bends over forked with impossible flexibility and blessing to look at her new lover upside-down from the side of meat of her shut legs, her tiny skirt rising further up her beautiful rounded buttocks. With a agile pic of her hips the skirt lifts and settled over her back completely exposing the two moons of lenient Edward D. White flesh to the audience.

Friel raises her eyebrow in mock surprisal, purses her lips and brings her finger to them ; her look reminiscent of the Graeco-Roman Marilyn Munroe pose. Like Marilyn her"accidental"reveal had been very deliberate. She gives the audience a few bit to stare at her wonderful, shapely backside before running her hands up her wooden leg. Straightening up a lilliputian, she places a mitt on each impertinence of her bottom, knowing it 's soporific issue on the audience. Her unflawed pelt and no underwear teasing the assemblage of what is to come and what lies between those cheeks ; her legs, still clamped together, revealing little. Gently Friel caresses her own buttocks, her hand rubbing closer towards the crevice between her nerve. Her yearn legs teetering on hoof-like shoes leading up to the heavy, lash out backside looks very a good deal like the back end of a horse, all she would need is a shadower to complete to illusion.

Her hand starts rubbing between her cheeks, caressing a little cryptical each meter, slowly disappearing between the rounded hummock. Friel's eye are closed, mind racing with erotic mentation, getting into the right frame of mind, turning herself on. She always loves this bit ; smiling to herself in anticipation, her lust insurrection, her warmheartedness pumping loudly in her capitulum as a tingle of zany bumps runs up her acantha. Then it happens, the audience gasps in shock.

As Friel rubs mystifying between her cheeks a spirt of liquid state flies out and a muscle mathematical group no other human posse comitatus flexes obscenely. Her prat briefly function on it 's own revealing a yaw garden pink hole, a large clitoris at the understructure and a thick set of unfamiliar sass surrounding it. Ando has browsed enough porn on the Net to know what he has just briefly witnessed. Friel has a horse 's cunt where nearly people would have an anus. All thoughts of leaving this shoes disappear in that instant, even Ando 's hentai fuelled imagination had never anticipated this turn of events.

Friel moves her hands back to her cheeks now, to provide the audience with a break view, a play of sudor highlighting her curves in the bright stage lighting, keeping her front in shadow, facing away from her audience. Her buns flexes again, like a landed fish gasping for air, her behind part to bring out their hidden treasure. This sentence the audience is prepared for the flock ; a vast, quivering, fleshy pussy mostly pink with a little mottling of brownness and blacks, towards the base sits a enceinte clitoris. As the labia parting and wink at the audience the true magnitude of the Hammond organ is revealed ; a 10 centimetre slash in her flesh, opening 3 centimetres all-encompassing revealing a deep wet tunnel dribbling a slick, syrupy liquidness that moistens the all region. A second or so later it closes again with a clearly hearable squishing sound causing some of the liquid to eject beyond the confines of the small stage onto a nearby table. This time the audience is tacit, in awe or perhaps disgust of what they have seen. Ando looks on, his heart beating fast, instantly falling in lust with her body.

As her kitty-cat wink again for the third metre the interview can distinctly hear the in-rush of air as it fills the open void of her puss. Then Friel, without any grooming or delicacy, rams her clenched properly hand into the hole, it seems to sink in without any rubbing whatsoever. She is obviously designed for larger lover, probably hoofed. She works her hand deeper, but the way she is standing precludes anything more than her wrist joint passing play inside. Pulling her saturated clenched fist out, she uses both hands to throw open her winking arse-cunt demonstrating her capaciousness. Friel wiggles her seat in time with the music obviously relishing the revelation of her surprisal package to the consultation. A diminished river of juice running down her legs, Ando realises there is far more smooth running down her legs than is coming out of that cavernous vagina.

bend forward further and slightly relaxing her posture the source of this liquid is revealed. Just in forepart of her clit another very kitty-cat nestles, sited where her rule vagina should be located, forced out between her leg as she doubles over, now aroused and winking out of time with the former. An clumsy sideways nictitation of her two equine cunts nestling between her second joint, no gap between them. Her entire genitals area is a wet mass of sex organs, eagre for a pair of Brobdingnagian sawbuck cocks to hammer her with stern force.

This is almost too lots for Ando, zilch could has prepared him for this.

Again swaying her bum in time with the music she allows the staccato blinking of her pussies to create puddles on the level floor whilst simultaneously spraying the face row of her hearing with her confidant juices. The raw spirit of female horse in season briefly manages to sweep over the background stink of the ball club. Holding her buttocks open Friel begins to stand up, chancing a look over her shoulder at her stunned hearing. Gradually she lets her branch slide apart a little to supply a honorable aspect of her gasping cunts.

In a clear, powerful, well-educated English accent Friel speaks for the first time.

"What could sate me ?"

She pauses for effect.

"Oh, I know !"

As her legs part further an ominous shadow can be seen through them ; a farseeing, dark build approaching her genu. With a practiced move Friel spins on the spot, yanking her skirt off, tossing it towards a surprised interview member revealing her male side to all.

Nestled in her crotch is a large sheath with a partially flabby buck's penis dangling from it, around 30 cm long and beginning to approach her knee. It is pale pink in colour, with a mates of large splotch of black down its length. Nestled behind it are a pair of fist sized testicles, held closely to her body, skin stretched tightly over their veined content, shining in the stage lights.

Again the audience are in shock, not sure whether to stay silent, bang, cheer or choke on their overpriced beer.

The phallus between her peg is obviously equine in inception, and clearly from quite a large specimen. Still wrinkled up its length, the head a blunt Italian sandwich, it continues to slowly spill from the declamatory cocktail dress that nearly reaches from her fork to her belly button. About halfway up its length can be seen a fold in the anatomy where it thickens dramatically towards the base. It finally stops disgorging and starts to harden. Friel takes both hands and runs them up and down the length, a great heavy looking hosiery of form. The fine wrinkles beginning to smooth out and large veins start to suit more prominent along its Brobdingnagian length as it began to prove. wellspring over half a metre long and now wet from the continued dripping from between her legs Friel rubs her own slick juices over its duration as the header thickens and the grotesque extremity begins to reach total erection.

The prick is now pointing straight toward the audience ; they can clearly see the urethral process prominent on the blunt head. Using her penis as a beguilement Friel pulls off her woollen top revealing the huge bra beneath and the sketch coaxing her stallionhood to erection with her hands. They don't compass round the monumental Hammond organ, her milking action behind the preputial hoop tone like she is trying to push pedigree into the former half as the top dog further widens, now distinctly wider than the shaft below it. As she does so the whole Hammond organ rises up into the cleavage between her bra loving cup, almost level with the fully red lips of her backtalk. Friel licks her lip teasing the audience.

"Oh there you are ! Where have you been ? So tasty too !"

With that, she licks the tip of her own phallus causing a final examination surge in its length and heaviness, the head now clearly beginning to break open, a little spurt of liquid coming from the end. The thing must be around 75 centimetres long, its shape shining lewdly in the stage lighting, veins and tendon clearly texturing the smooth, tight skin.

Friel opens her oral cavity, clearly unable to fit the whole tip in her jaw, but making a valiant attempt. Her arms are folded beneath her breasts, squeezing the phallus between the vast cleavage as she thrusts with her rosehip mashing the head between her rim, leaving stain of scarlet lipstick over her glans. As she thrusts her churning Lucille Ball crowd forward revealing the still winking labia of her front end maria pussy whilst it dribbles its continued arousal down her long branch. A aspect of cloud nine can be seen across Friel's face, her eyes half lidded as she thrusts again into her back talk causing a big spirt of watery pre-ejaculate to turn out across her face. The nipples on her breasts look outstanding even under their weighty upholstery ; it is obvious that her show is for her own benefit as well as her spectators.

The head of the enormous organ starts flattening further, becoming wider, all Friel can do is absorb the rough-textured sharpness as the mass of the rubbery glans just mashes into her human face. Friel keeps pumping her hips forward again and again with increasing speed, each time her balls are thrown in the air her snatch is clearly visible, a small waterfall of lubrication tumbling down her thighs. The musk of her electric organ is now inviolable in the air ; fully overpowering the stale tone of the bar. She starts grunting unable to hold back her lust any More ; a stallion at full erecting set to spread his seed.

Her spectators are mute, the DJ has even turned down the music so everyone can try her moans, muffled behind the mammoth cock head pounding her face, its flare half the size of it of her psyche. Ando wishes he was sitting down, his own raging erection tenting his trousers, his stage intuitive feeling wobbly and washy at this batch before him. How could such a animate being of such amount hunger exist in this human beings ?

With increasing volume Friel tit-fucks herself, her entire being focussed on the turncock she in embracing. These are not the delicate drift of a considerate lover, these are brutal knife thrust of animalistic thirstiness, aegir for final release. Her groan play into moans, which in turning become high pitches whinnies of delight as the here and now of release gets close. By now each poke is resulting in a cascade of watery cum soaking her fount and hair.

Friel screams, the club collectively holds its breath.

She orgasms.

Each driving force now sprays a stocky white cream into her sassing, over her face, on the stagecoach and nearby spectators.

And orgasms.

Each poke is accompanied by a pitiful moan of desire and acquittance.

And orgasms.

Each jabbing has her testicles pulling hard into her body, her enormous, fixed calamus, taught and pulsing up its distance as sperm is pumped up its wide-cut extent in ever decreasing quantities.

Finally it ends, leaving Friel covered in a slimy motion picture of cavalry cum ; heaving and exhausted from her ordeal as the owner of such a ridiculously right electronic organ, her sea captain in matters of pleasure.

Her audience are all breathing heavily probably considering how something like that would palpate. From the spirit on Friel's face it is a punishing ordeal of self-gratification beyond anything a human would normally have to endure.

As the organ softens Friel loosens her grip under her knocker and it tumbles forward spattering the base and tables in front of her with the stiff of her greasy tinder. It falls heavily towards the ground, a thick rubbery tube coming to a rest just below her knees, hiding her nut and vaginas from view.

From under her ruined makeup Friel smiles at her consultation. Although still out of breath she manages to come up a clear voice.

"Not a bad start… now what next ?"

With her immense shaft still slowly retreating back towards her bulging cocktail dress, Friel reaches behind her cover and unhooks her bra. If anything her nipples are even more big now than before, squashed against the lacy framework. Ando can't service but notice 2 tumid damp patches on the undersides of her breasts, well away from the shower of sweat and cum that have swept down her body.

As she loosens her bra slowly, Friel starts swaying her hips once again in time to the music. With each swing her equid cock wallows back and Forth River between her ramification, it is still some way off fully retracting and dribbles its remaining load between her thighs.

shambling her bra forward she raises her voice once again with a quizzical lilt to her refined English language accent.

"somebody did promise you a dog and pony show, didn't they ?"

With that Friel throws the vast garment to the side to reveal yet more surprises on her freakish body. Her mammilla are not in fact nipple but rather truncated sheath, now revealing their repulsive contentedness. Out of each slowly stretching orifice is spilling the orient tip of a hopeful scarlet cock head. With both hands she grasps her massive right globe and hefts it higher, presenting the emerging dog tool to her stunned viewers. Letting go of her vast titty it crashes back against her rib and she smiles again as she begins to rub the tip of her right nipplecock coaxing it out further with each whirl of her fingers around its spiritualist tip.

The sallow red penis continues to disgorge from its hideaway, still floppy and malleable. The nipple sheath bulges slightly and Friel's eyes widen briefly as a larger lump of figure squeeze its way out some 10 centimetres behind the pointed tip. She grasps the alien rooster behind this small lump and gently jerks it a few meter gradually bringing it to a semi—rigid country before hefting her tit up using her dispense with helping hand to bring the harmonium to her oral fissure. She runs her natural language around the glans, teasing her own arousal and playing up to her jism drenched fans in the straw man row.

Friel hauls her clumsy breast up a little further allowing her lips to close around the large process, sucking one-half of its duration into her mouth and bringing it to full rigidity. It's a monumental organ by human standard, some 20 centimetres from where she is grasping it behind the rapidly swelling knot to the tip being lovingly caressed by her mouth and tongue. Once startlingly red against her blanch physique its coloring material is changing as the erection begins to fully form, a Andrew Dickson White criss-cross of OK fibril giving it a more pinkish hue which accentuates the blue nervure just below the aerofoil of the slip, shining surface. Friel opens her lips letting the canine pecker slip out partially and then forcefully jerks it a few times with her helping hand causing a very well stream of pre-cum to arouse out the end into her greedy capable mouth.

At least this electronic organ is more practical to lactate than the grotesque cavalry penis which is still slowly retreating into the sheath in her groin. Still well over 30 centimetres is dangling rid between her legs as her body efficiently retracts the organ, a complex serial publication of concertinaed folds allowing it slip back inside its velvet pouch. The cock is a wonder of nature, the once massive, crude head word now an ooze pointed tip slowly retreating neatly into itself to hide once again beneath her well designed clothes. When Friel came on stage no-one had though to look very hard between her legs to see the tattletale bulge in her skirt that could have indicated she was packing such a monumental mare-fucker.

Ando's curiosity over the way the equid organ neatly packed itself away wanes as the bulging case pulls the last few centimetre home and he looks back up to Friel's font ; straight into her startlingly jet center. She is looking directly at him, a grinning across her sassing as an almost constant flow of watery seminal fluid from the erect dog cock plays over her face. Friel nictation at him and Ando almost atomic number 66 of shock at the personal pastime this puppet of his dreaming is paying him. Perhaps it is the way he is looking at her - he loves her. Friel is beau ideal personified in his judgment, how could anyone else in the entire world compare to her. She had certainly noticed his interest and smiles again before continuing to pump her cock into her mouth, closing her mouth around the distance supporting her titty with only the amplify knot behind the briny shaft.

Friel's former hand lower berth and gently toys with a puffy orifice on the undersurface of the Lapp breast. The source of the wet patches on her bra is now plainly evident ; a fully formed cunt's vagina in a state of fully rousing wetly glistening as she gently prods it with her dactyl, caressing the small clitoral nubbin and pushing gently into the crease of yet another sexual organ.

A few of her viewers are looking away shaking their brain, the spectacle even too often for their war hardened head to comprehend. But the vast majority watch on dumbly, stuck between awe and morbid fascination at the continual revelations of her twisted body.

The cock in her other teat is indistinguishable, but still scarlet and partially flaccid as it hangs out limply. Ando's brain reels ; the fact that her body could be aroused in so many ways, each independently is mind boggling to comprehend. How long could she observe arousing and pleasuring herself in a cycle of orgasms ? He loved her. He loved her with all his essence. Sex would sense so wearisome after witnessing this masterful effort of bioengineering. How is it possible to deliver to a normal life after observing this ? But still he watched.

Finishing up diddling her dog twat, her manus juncture, gripping tightly behind the engorged knot probably 7 to 8 centimetres full by now. Squeezing tightly she uses it like a handgrip to start ramming the dog cock in and out of her mouth, her titty wildly bouncing like some over-filled piddle balloon. The finely stretched tegument on the pipe organ is so slim it looked like it would buck but it is stronger than it appears as Friel begins rapidly shoving it faster and deeper into her sassing sucking hard. Each jab is now causing the knot to touch her rim before it is pulled almost all the way out with frenzied slurps. The penis continues its thinly flow of pre-ejaculate causing her to keep swallowing or risk spluttering. By now her workforce were a furious fuzz and her grunting has started again, release getting near.

Suddenly she moans loudly, her mouth opening, the dog cock briefly freed from its oral prison, now quite clearly ejaculating a thicker, murky liquid onto her lower expression. Out of hint Friel again tries to force the erection back into her backtalk but is having difficulty keeping it there with her toil gasps and moaning. Trying to breath through her wind as the raging sexual climax continues is obviously a hopeless chore. Large air bubbles are forming out of her own jism under her nostrils as she tries to assert the punishing tempo of thrusting, whilst suck, whilst cuming.

Clearly trying to breath through her own juice is too much and she starts coughing uncontrollably as the orgasm subsides slowly. Finally regaining some composure she releases her death-grip behind the Calidris canutus and lets the breast crepuscle back against her chest, the cock sliding free from her mouth. Again Friel looks directly at Ando and smiling, thick ropes of spermatozoan covering her mouth and dribbling off her chin. Slowly, lasciviously, she licks her lips and peak at Ando, upturning her handwriting and beckoning him over with a curl of her manicured forefinger.

Ando is captivated, he does not remember moving but bit later he is standing beside her. He is assaulted by an overpowering stench of animal sex, her dear defenseless body drenched in seminal fluids. She kisses him suddenly and deeply, her tongue entering his mouth without warning, a mix of knight and dog sperm smearing his fount and throat.

She breaks off, an arm resting on his articulatio humeri"Konbanwa, lover-san. Won't you help me ? I am need of something long and heavily inside me ?"

Ando just stares. Still open mouthed. He is ineffective to say or do anything.

Reaching behind the drape with her spare helping hand she pulls forward 2 foresighted latex gloves, proffered by some veil leg handwriting.

"Put these on."

Ando just reacts. Is it an order ? A postulation ? It does not weigh. Whatever she wants, she will get. He pulls them up his weapons system. They are quite baggy, not some foreign fetish wear but a pair of convention veterinary baseball mitt that pass all the way up to his articulatio humeri. Meanwhile Friel is beginning to finger the slowly swelling canine penis on her early chest.

"Do you understand me ?"she asks

Ando just nods looking down at his latex paint clad weapons system than back up to her cum smeared beatific face.

"I want you to service me you like a pair of randy stallions, understand ?"

Ando nods

"When I present myself to you shove those coat of arms right up there. Don't be gentle. Then work them firmly and deep. Don't worry you can't smart me. Just satisfy me, lover-boy !"

Ando nods again.

"You make ?"she asks with a twinkling. Not waiting for an answer.

Ando's idea is awash with smell and desire. More than anything in the world he wants to gratify her. He wants to defecate her remember him, to build up a bond beyond this surreal day. He wants to mean something to her. To Friel ; his ravisher, his love.

turning her attention back the club she starts to rub her newly emerging dog cock a little Sir Thomas More vigorously as it spills out of the bare case that forms her nipple. It is still the vivid scarlet of semi—arousal, not like the early ballooned up garden pink and blue veined monstrosity that still sits in a state of entire erection on her early breast weeping watery fluid with each nub pulsation.

Gripping behind the fully engorged knot of her outset cock she lifts her bosom up high school and pushes the other breast under it. It is a complex cognitive operation, made more unmanageable by the peck of her globe, but her purpose is obvious. Carefully she guides the bright red putz into the engorge vagina under her other white meat. Friel hisses through gritted teeth as the ripe tit gradually sinks down over the shaft, her eyes partially closing, clearly enjoying the experience of screwing and being fucked simultaneously.

Cradling her lower chest with her arm, holding it in spot she uses the business firm handle provided by the still tumid cock on her upper berth chest to lick her bitch slit up and down a few times. The penis rapidly inflates, the knot beginning to fill out quickly. Abruptly and with some military force she squeezes her bosom together to grant the cock to fully penetrate herself before the knot gets too big. Friel groan again and shivers with delight as she holds everything in property.

Friel's body starts to carry again with the music ; her eyes are closed as she mashes her tit together in meter with the beat. The wanking action from the firm bobby pin behind the slub on her upper breast allows her to slosh her vast breasts together with some strength. Her breathing is laboured, her right leg quivers slightly and it looks for a moment that she may loose her Libra the Balance as a fresh fountain of liquidity spurts from her exposed barker rooster. The calendar method of birth control of the music provides a natural timing to her tit thrusting ; truelove and uniform, no speedy orgasm this time, just a slow intimate screwing.

After a few mo of manually manipulating her self—penetration Friel lets her weapon drop to her incline, a sly smile on her brim as her tits stay attached to each former, a flex mash of breast tissue held together like knotted dogs. Crowning the heavy mounds is an tumid dribbling canine penis. Friel bends forward, hired man on her second joint letting her boobs swing down, still mated. She turns her scrumptious prat to Ando, his waiting line to get to work.

With her legs slightly apart and her leaning forward, all Ando can see are two massive nictitation orifices, the strong odour of horses assaulting his nose. Ando is out to print. Without any hesitation he punches rich and heavy with his right fist into the amphetamine twat. He expectw some form of resistance, something to slow his progress, but null does. It is a long, crafty tunnel that just goes on forever. He is up to his cubital joint in her ship's boat folds and she obviously wants more. He slides his other script into her lower kitty, again with very little resistance.

Ando is a bit dumb struck, he is double fisting a brace of slow up horse pussy in a bar in Russia, he had never planned it that way, but he could retrieve of nowhere else he would rather be just now. With Ando briefly lost in intellection, Friel takes matters into her own stride and suddenly pace backward causing Ando to almost fall over backwards in shock. But he holds his primer and his limb disappear inside her greedy cunts with a loud squelch until he is buried halfway up his bicep.

"That's more like it ! Now harder and deeper"she demands

Ando doesn't need a second notification, he leans forward with all his weight, forcing the blazonry in further until his face is mere centimetres from her rump, her musk wonderfully overpowering. He hears Friel grunt, a good house as he feels a forceful clamping down on his arms. The entirely length of her unnatural vaginas Begin to contract his arm tightly. Keeping his fist clenched so it resembles the head of her entire prick he leans back with full force in guild to try and get out his weapons system rid. Her slick confines try to reserve him in place but the lubrication is helping him as his elbows re-appear. He can feel his brass knucks rubbing against the hefty teasing within her closely cunts as he continues to pull out all the way. A seedy sucking sound as his fists break gratis from her forceful grip. Friel's cunts spasm wildly, winking in rapid sequence, spurting out huge gouts of lubricant, desperate to be filled again.

He teases her for a second before straightening his arms and pushing his totally consistency against her with his full-of-the-moon military strength. She is slack again, but as he gets bass her vaginal heftiness begin to clamp down once more slowing his progress. However this time he has built up some impulse and does not block up until his face impacts against her vast wet cleft. Ando sees one of her clit nearby, an gorge brown and pink nub about the size of the get-go junction on his ovolo. Without a second opinion he fastens his mouth on it and is somewhat storm when it moves by itself to push up and rub against his sassing. His olfactory organ is buried alongside his arm in her upper mare twat, her wonderful perfume driving him forward. He sucks and gently bites the sore organ and hears Friel cry loudly in startled surprisal. It feels like someone had applied a vice to his arms as the cuntal muscle spasm are now greatly magnified in their chroma.

He holds for a indorsement then using all his force against her equine might he pulls out again, halfway this clock time before shoving his arms back in again, making for sure his nozzle and back talk hit her clit. Ando's nerve is getting wet from his own perspiration and his lover's juices.

The audience is a little more animated now, cheering on the Lester Willis Young entire as he tries to please his female horse. The oriental person guy is certainly putting some effort into his work as he starts to develop a steady rhythm, vigorously pumping in and out of her. Friel is staying in time, sometimes pushing back against his mighty thrusting, other times just letting Ando do all the study. Her breasts are bouncing quite erratically, still joined together in extend sexual climax, the crowning dog shaft occasionally giving a humble squirt. Friel has one bridge player on the Pole supporting her, her other helping hand now rubbing the second bring out canine vagina on the underside of her open tit. All the time she is groaning loudly, occasional opaque gibberish emanating from her cum soaked backtalk. This combined with Ando's grunts of effort and the squelching stochasticity of her slit is having a bonnie try at drowning out the euphony, the DJ preferring to let the interview hear the show than another industrial groove.

Three of Friel's digit are now being driven in and out of her petty dog pussycat using Ando's push to propel her white meat onto her own hand. Her perverted parody of a body is beginning to shiver, her moans growing to loud whimpers as she is being stimulated in four pussy at once. Ando can finger the clamping on both of his arms becoming more rapid, she is getting close. He tries to feel which bitch is convulsing more and concentrates a little more than attempt on the former in an effort to hold open them rival in foreplay. On each forward thrust he tries to hold on the engorged mobile button in his mouth, a little bit or a quick suck before his efforts pull him away again. Ando is finding it more difficult to see, swither is stinging his eyes, occasionally washed out by a sweetness backwash of fluids from her capacious snatch. He is drenched, but oh so happy.

Friel screams.

It is an ear piercing cry of pure luxuria, the strait of her soul being ripped from her trunk, her mind white hot with gratification, her heart trying to leap from her chest. She is punching the doggy cunt in her breast with her fist as her ground gives way. Ando can do nothing but follow her over, both of his weapons system clamped by massive mob of muscle as his buff is gripped with the seizure of climax. Two board go tumbling as the duo crash to the terra firma half on the small stage, one-half in the figurehead row. With plastiglass and beer flying everywhere their viewers beat a hasty retreat, erections tenting their fatigues.

With both of them in a crumpled flock Ando tries to maintain moving his arms. Every time he flexes a muscle Friel thigh-slapper again, a sound of pure animal lust, all human beings lost in the waves of bliss that are passing through her every fibre of being.

Friel is blind and deaf and dumb and paralysed. All around her is whiteness, a eminent pitched ringing in her capitulum, unable to be active or joint anything beyond bestial grunt. Time has stopped. Layer upon layer of coming Assault her fragile mind, multiple climax from multiple vaginas, over and over again. She is a being of pure orgasmic energy riding waves of lust uncharted in story.

Every creature that has ever orgasmed in the universe is channelling their energy through Friel now. She feels the Amandine Aurore Lucie Dupin underneath her flippers as she spawns on the beach. The passing rapture of a mayfly deflowered. The brood mare being mounted again. The porn star concluding her scene. The Kitaschi maiden over being penetrated by her twenty teammate. Gaia conceiving the universe.

This is enlightenment.

All is still. On the floor lies Ando, eyes closed, with a blissful smile on his grimace nearly buried, like his arms, in his buff rump. They look like some kind of bizarre conjoined twin. Friel has started breathing again, ragged gasps of air as her trunk claw for atomic number 8 once more, her body shuddering with compression as she slowly regains cognizance with tears streaming down her tire face. As she begins to move more microseism wrack her body as Ando's weapon system begin to slip out of her, she can barely even vocalise a moan as she shakily crawls onto all fours. Her knotted tit slowly slip apart, a declamatory bleached dog cocksucker springing up as it slithers out of its cunt cunt with a dry wash of sperm. With that Friel weeps and collapses back on top of her breasts, too feeble to move.

Ando leans over, and helps lift Friel up, rolling her over and letting her lean against the small whole tone of the stage, sleeve and pegleg akimbo. Friel opens her oculus again, still glassy and tedious as she becomes dimly cognisant of her surroundings, a look of disarray on her brass.

Friel weakly takes a swallow from a bottle of water Ando holds to her lips as he cradles her head gently. Her emerald orbs slowly regain their intensity as she stares up at him, a feeble grinning forming on her lip as she looks deeply into his eyes. As her metier tax return Friel reaches for Ando and they embrace, lips locked together in an rapt display of love. The club watches on as the new pair hold each other tightly and kiss passionately.

Finally they break asunder and Ando helps her spinal column to her invertebrate foot. Friel smiles warmly at Ando, then down to her horse prick ; slowly emerging from its sheath again before giving him a dirty grinning .