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The Scene: A Dark, Intimate Studio

In the center of Sin City, a secret, underground studio buzzed with thrill. The setting used to be thick with the odor of hurry and afterglow, the air electrical with the promise of a wild evening. The level used to be set for a uncooked, unfiltered live chat flow that includes none rather then the queen of MILF domination herself – Bambi B.

The Players: Bambi B and Her Lucky Sub

Bambi B strutted onto the level, her curves gracefully accentuated via the skin-tight latex catsuit she wore. Her fiery sensual hair cascaded down her again savor a mane, her inexperienced eyes smoldering with excitation. She used to be the epitome of a dominatrix, exuding an impressive, hot power that left her target market begging for extra.

Her fortunate sub for the evening used to be a tender, muscular guy, his eyes vast and impossible to resist as he knelt prior to Bambi B. He licked his lips, his eyes by no means leaving her as she rotated him, taunting him with glimpses of her frame.

The Action: A Rough, Strap-on MILF Ram

Bambi B sauntered over to a titties, her stiletto heels clicking rhythmically towards the ground. She decided on a graceful, black strap-on and slipped it into her waistband, the end placing tantalizingly between her legs. She grew to become to stand her sub, her lips curling right into a devilish grin.

“You’ve been a excellent boy,” she purred, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now it is time to turn out your self.”

She grabbed his hair, yanking his head again kind of, her sharp nails digginig into his scalp. “You’re going to take each and every inch of this, perceive?”

The sub whimpered, his frame trembling with concern and jubilation. “Yes, Mistress,” he controlled to gasp out, his voice uncooked with emotion.

With a savage growl, Bambi B shoved the strap-on into him, his eyes widening in ache and delight. She rode him tough, her hips grinding towards his as she drove the strap-on out and in with brutal pressure. Each thrust despatched shockwaves of delight via her frame, her moans of ecstasy echoing during the studio.

The sub’s frame used to be a therapeutic massage of hysteria and unfastened, his muscle tissues clenching and unclenching as Bambi B relentlessly took keep watch over. He reached a snapping point, his frame convulsing as he got here, his seed spilling out onto the level.

Bambi B pulled away, her frame glistening with sweat as she watched her sub cave in to the ground, spent. She chuckled, a depraved glint in her eyes as she pulled the strap-on from her waistband and wiped it on his blouse.

“That’s for staring at,” she taunted, her voice dripping with contempt. “Now get out of my sight.”

And with that, Bambi B grew to become her again on her sub, her dominance transparent as she strutted off the level, her target market left breathless and hungry for extra.

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