CB-143 Arab Sex Slave
Arab Sex Slave
Combat Books
CB-143
$3.95
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“Suck my scepter, slut boy!” the man growled.
The cold metal dildo pressed against Travis’ lips. He opened his mouth, and it slid inside, over the curled trough of his tongue. It slid back and forth, rhythmically, scraping against the roof of his mouth, punching back against his tonsils, forcing its way down his throat, bringing tears to his eyes.
He sucked it. His cheeks hollowed. His circled lips milked around the corrugated metal copy of a male sex tool. It almost seemed to pulse and grow warm and meaty in his mouth.
His eyes were fixed on the huge bulge in the man’s jock as he sucked the substitute cock. He was aware that the two guards had their guns trained on him. The muzzles of the guns were erotic and threatening. They seemed to steam with subterranean heat. The drum beat throbbed in his temples like the voice of a primitive god. His balls were tightening in his undershorts. His cock was twitching, tingling, thickening. He was dizzy with excitement.
The masked man roared with laughter, jeering down at him. He shifted on the golden throne. The bulge in his jock suddenly made a tearing sound and a gargantuan penis ripped right through the leather and thrust upward in the air. It was as big as his arm. The fat, pulpy knob was rosy and slick with fuck juice. The immense, steely sides were etched with a latticework of veins.
“Taste me, boy! Taste me!” the man hissed, the words ‘taste me’ bouncing off the walls of the cave like the hissing chorus of some demented demonic ritual. The man fisted his enormous erection, pushing it downward towards Travis’ face.
The cock head loomed before Travis’ eyes like an oversized mushroom. The metal phallus was abruptly withdrawn from his mouth, and he gasped for air, the cave swirling around him, growing dim, all except for that enormous cock. It became the center of his consciousness, the god of his soul, the total meaning of all life.
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