The Burglar
- 3 years ago
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Cat Burglar Part II - The Next Morning... free porn video
(Note- you'll have to read the first part to remind yourself where we left our couple...we'll start with the very end of the last scene)
With that, he abandons all resistance. He lies back as she lowers her mouth onto his raging, fevered manhood. He clutches her hair desperately, winding his fists in it and holding her there, as if still afraid she might try to escape. He could reassure himself by pushing his fingers into her hot, wet, needy pussy. She’s going nowhere but down on his big stiff cock. But he's beyond that now, he's helpless, unable even to think about dominating her. She sucks like her life depends on it, greedily gorging herself on his meat. He bucks and thrusts himself into her mouth, she can feel him tensing, ready to explode, and she redoubles her efforts, tugging and milking his shaft, pummelling the head with her urgent tongue, willing the cream to rise and burst. A pool of sweetness blooms on the swollen head, and then he cries out, and fills her mouth. His cock jerks and his body spasms as he lifts off the bed, moaning incoherently, falling back spent.
She sits up, primly tucking herself back into her latex catsuit, a good girl once more. The sweat stands out on his belly and she runs her tongue over him, a trail of little kisses down to his thicket of dark hair. He tries to sit up but is too weak to move. She grins contentedly, very satisfied with herself and the night's adventure. "You're welcome" she whispers, and slips away into the shadows. He won't be reporting anything. She'd bet her life on it.
The next morning
Dr Task is in no condition to answer the quiet knock on the door. His legs feel weak and shaky, and his mind is reeling. Memories flood through him the instant he opens his eyes: the sleekness of her oiled black thighs, the flash of her white breasts as she straddled him, the lightning heat of her tongue invading the tip of his cock. God, she had nearly driven him mad and when she finally let him come, the orgasm was so powerful, so shattering that he'd blacked out with the sound of her excited gulping and slurping noises still in his ears. Now he touches his cock as it stirs, thinking he's never been bigger or thicker or more wildly turned on. Not that he has much to compare it with – god knows it’s been a long dry spell since he escaped his marriage. Who is he k**ding? Since before he escaped his marriage. He shudders thinking of the suffocating silences, the endless dreary evenings before the television, the feeling that somewhere out there, his real life was waiting for him. His woman. Soft, wet and very, very willing...He strokes the purple swelling a few times absently. It couldn't have been a dream. He can still feel her thighs clamped tight around his waist. A slight clicking noise makes him turn his head; the door of his room is opening. He pulls the sheet up over his chest, trying to calm what by now is well beyond his usual morning erection.
A dark-haired woman in a maid's cap pokes her head into the room. She looks at him and seems startled. "Housekeeping, sir. I can come back later." He shakes his head, beckoning her forward with a careless wave of his hand. He considers reaching for the bathrobe on the back of the door, but it is too far and his cock is still hard, so he gives the idea up. The woman enters, looking at him warily. His hair is wildly rumpled, giving him the air of a mad Roman emperor. But he looks nice enough, slender and well-made, with the kind of muscles you get from working, not working out...she notes the flatness of his belly under the sheet and reminds herself that he is flat on his back, still half-asleep, and she could surely fight him off if necessary. She is small, but shapely in a short black dress and white apron. Her stockings are also white, and he notices her thighs are plumpish, but smooth. He hardens further, and decides to stay where he is. "Go ahead.” He smiles reassuringly, and his face is young despite the warm crinkles around his eyes. “Do what you have to do. I'm just going to drink my tea." He looks around, realising too late that the tea is also out of reach on the desk. She makes a little bobbing movement - is it a curtsy? - and says in a low voice, "I'll get it for you."
He lays back against the pillows, satisfied. It is not at all displeasing to have both a monstrous cock and a woman bringing you your tea in bed, he reflects. Every day should start like this. “Every day will start like this, when I am king,” he thinks. He studies her back, bent slightly over the table. Well, actually he studies her backside, which is round and generous. He can't be sure, but he suspects her stockings are attached to a garter belt. He thinks he glimpses a flash of thigh, creamy even against the pale stockings. He pictures her backing herself against him, bumping and grinding that ass into his rearing, plunging, rampaging cock. She turns, bending smoothly from the waist to offer him the cup. He takes it, brushing her fingers as he does so and feeling an immediate thump in his chest. "What's the matter with you?" he thinks. "Let the woman do her job." Clearly, the adventures of last night are having a lingering effect. After being so silently and savagely taken, he is feeling the need to assert his dominance once more, and heaven help the first unwary female to cross his path. He shakes his head, trying to clear it of the image of the maid spreadeagled on the bed in nothing but her filmy apron. Perfectly unaware of the danger, she inclines her head graciously and moves into the bathroom. She walks briskly, but he can't help fixing his eyes on her swaying hips. He can hear her moving things about on the shelf. Probably stretching to clean the mirror above the sink. He can't get it out of his mind that if he came in behind her, he might be able to see the tops of her stockings where they attach to what surely must be satin ribbons...how he loves the sensual fold of flesh where the softest part of a woman's thigh is gripped by the metal straps.
He is out of the bed now, naked and fully erect, his cock bobbing with every eager step. What is he doing? She will surely call the manager and there will be a scene. “Good!” says the devil on his shoulder. “You’ve been well-behaved long enough. Time to make up for all that self-denial.”
He tries to move quietly, so as not to disturb her. Just one quick look, and if she catches him, he can always say he needs the bathroom. After all, it is his room. It is his right.
She is bent over the bathtub, polishing the already gleaming taps. Her dress is hiked up, and her thighs are firm and milky white. But what makes him catch his breath is the sight of the shiny black garter belt stretched smoothly over her hips. Latex. His heart begins to pound and he feels the tip of his cock oozing wet. The realisation hits him with such force that he nearly explodes with pleasure there and then. His cat burglar has a day job. He hadn't left the window open at all - she'd simply used her key.
He feels a sharp triumph when she turns and looks at him. Surprise and alarm give way to deeper shock when she sees the look of recognition and gloating on his face - and the looming shape of his big, hard cock. She stares at him, wide-eyed. Her mouth opens involuntarily and he laughs, looking down into her face and rubbing a finger suggestively over her lips. "Oh, you can open your mouth as wide as you like, but that won't help you this time, my girl. Now you really are in trouble." She looks at him, all seven punishing inches of him, and sinks meekly to her knees.
To be continued!
With that, he abandons all resistance. He lies back as she lowers her mouth onto his raging, fevered manhood. He clutches her hair desperately, winding his fists in it and holding her there, as if still afraid she might try to escape. He could reassure himself by pushing his fingers into her hot, wet, needy pussy. She’s going nowhere but down on his big stiff cock. But he's beyond that now, he's helpless, unable even to think about dominating her. She sucks like her life depends on it, greedily gorging herself on his meat. He bucks and thrusts himself into her mouth, she can feel him tensing, ready to explode, and she redoubles her efforts, tugging and milking his shaft, pummelling the head with her urgent tongue, willing the cream to rise and burst. A pool of sweetness blooms on the swollen head, and then he cries out, and fills her mouth. His cock jerks and his body spasms as he lifts off the bed, moaning incoherently, falling back spent.
She sits up, primly tucking herself back into her latex catsuit, a good girl once more. The sweat stands out on his belly and she runs her tongue over him, a trail of little kisses down to his thicket of dark hair. He tries to sit up but is too weak to move. She grins contentedly, very satisfied with herself and the night's adventure. "You're welcome" she whispers, and slips away into the shadows. He won't be reporting anything. She'd bet her life on it.
The next morning
Dr Task is in no condition to answer the quiet knock on the door. His legs feel weak and shaky, and his mind is reeling. Memories flood through him the instant he opens his eyes: the sleekness of her oiled black thighs, the flash of her white breasts as she straddled him, the lightning heat of her tongue invading the tip of his cock. God, she had nearly driven him mad and when she finally let him come, the orgasm was so powerful, so shattering that he'd blacked out with the sound of her excited gulping and slurping noises still in his ears. Now he touches his cock as it stirs, thinking he's never been bigger or thicker or more wildly turned on. Not that he has much to compare it with – god knows it’s been a long dry spell since he escaped his marriage. Who is he k**ding? Since before he escaped his marriage. He shudders thinking of the suffocating silences, the endless dreary evenings before the television, the feeling that somewhere out there, his real life was waiting for him. His woman. Soft, wet and very, very willing...He strokes the purple swelling a few times absently. It couldn't have been a dream. He can still feel her thighs clamped tight around his waist. A slight clicking noise makes him turn his head; the door of his room is opening. He pulls the sheet up over his chest, trying to calm what by now is well beyond his usual morning erection.
A dark-haired woman in a maid's cap pokes her head into the room. She looks at him and seems startled. "Housekeeping, sir. I can come back later." He shakes his head, beckoning her forward with a careless wave of his hand. He considers reaching for the bathrobe on the back of the door, but it is too far and his cock is still hard, so he gives the idea up. The woman enters, looking at him warily. His hair is wildly rumpled, giving him the air of a mad Roman emperor. But he looks nice enough, slender and well-made, with the kind of muscles you get from working, not working out...she notes the flatness of his belly under the sheet and reminds herself that he is flat on his back, still half-asleep, and she could surely fight him off if necessary. She is small, but shapely in a short black dress and white apron. Her stockings are also white, and he notices her thighs are plumpish, but smooth. He hardens further, and decides to stay where he is. "Go ahead.” He smiles reassuringly, and his face is young despite the warm crinkles around his eyes. “Do what you have to do. I'm just going to drink my tea." He looks around, realising too late that the tea is also out of reach on the desk. She makes a little bobbing movement - is it a curtsy? - and says in a low voice, "I'll get it for you."
He lays back against the pillows, satisfied. It is not at all displeasing to have both a monstrous cock and a woman bringing you your tea in bed, he reflects. Every day should start like this. “Every day will start like this, when I am king,” he thinks. He studies her back, bent slightly over the table. Well, actually he studies her backside, which is round and generous. He can't be sure, but he suspects her stockings are attached to a garter belt. He thinks he glimpses a flash of thigh, creamy even against the pale stockings. He pictures her backing herself against him, bumping and grinding that ass into his rearing, plunging, rampaging cock. She turns, bending smoothly from the waist to offer him the cup. He takes it, brushing her fingers as he does so and feeling an immediate thump in his chest. "What's the matter with you?" he thinks. "Let the woman do her job." Clearly, the adventures of last night are having a lingering effect. After being so silently and savagely taken, he is feeling the need to assert his dominance once more, and heaven help the first unwary female to cross his path. He shakes his head, trying to clear it of the image of the maid spreadeagled on the bed in nothing but her filmy apron. Perfectly unaware of the danger, she inclines her head graciously and moves into the bathroom. She walks briskly, but he can't help fixing his eyes on her swaying hips. He can hear her moving things about on the shelf. Probably stretching to clean the mirror above the sink. He can't get it out of his mind that if he came in behind her, he might be able to see the tops of her stockings where they attach to what surely must be satin ribbons...how he loves the sensual fold of flesh where the softest part of a woman's thigh is gripped by the metal straps.
He is out of the bed now, naked and fully erect, his cock bobbing with every eager step. What is he doing? She will surely call the manager and there will be a scene. “Good!” says the devil on his shoulder. “You’ve been well-behaved long enough. Time to make up for all that self-denial.”
He tries to move quietly, so as not to disturb her. Just one quick look, and if she catches him, he can always say he needs the bathroom. After all, it is his room. It is his right.
She is bent over the bathtub, polishing the already gleaming taps. Her dress is hiked up, and her thighs are firm and milky white. But what makes him catch his breath is the sight of the shiny black garter belt stretched smoothly over her hips. Latex. His heart begins to pound and he feels the tip of his cock oozing wet. The realisation hits him with such force that he nearly explodes with pleasure there and then. His cat burglar has a day job. He hadn't left the window open at all - she'd simply used her key.
He feels a sharp triumph when she turns and looks at him. Surprise and alarm give way to deeper shock when she sees the look of recognition and gloating on his face - and the looming shape of his big, hard cock. She stares at him, wide-eyed. Her mouth opens involuntarily and he laughs, looking down into her face and rubbing a finger suggestively over her lips. "Oh, you can open your mouth as wide as you like, but that won't help you this time, my girl. Now you really are in trouble." She looks at him, all seven punishing inches of him, and sinks meekly to her knees.
To be continued!
Nadine
- 25.05.2020
- 7
- 0
