Sinbad The Sorcress and Djinn Fassad
- 3 years ago
- 21
- 0
So I Had A Bad Day free porn video
My dark, glittering eyes surveys the room, flicking from body to body. My lips curl in a snarl of disgust. It has been a bitch of a day and all I want now is a quick drink, a hot fuck and a few hours of sleep, preferably in that order. Too bad the only ones out on a Saturday night are the college teenyboppers. With a snort I remind myself that while they might look good, they generally don't know how to really please a man, how to take a good hard fucking and make him come back for more. All they seek is their own pleasure and if they don't get their rocks off, they became incessantly whiney. Thank you, no. My head already hurts enough without that drama.
No, tonight is all for me. If the world is gonna fuck me, I am going return some of the favour. I chuckle darkly, ordering my drink and slamming it down. I don't drink at all, but I am entitled this time. And one drink, the limit I'd set for myself, would take the edge off my day and off my conscience. This also ensures that I am far from drunk. I quietly hiss as the gin burns its way down my throat. Then I turn to browse the offerings again, halfway resigning to fucking one of the barely twenty something bubble-butted bobble-heads, as I refer to them.
Almost growling my frustration, I start to step towards a table of co-eds when a soft voice seems to cut through the fog of noise. It slithers over my eardrums. Soft, slightly sad and definitely older than the rest of this college crowd, the tone is entrancing, even while the words are lost to the clatter of a busy bar. I stiffen, every sense on alert now, scanning the crush of revelers to find the owner of that sexy voice.
At the end of the bar, I find you. Head dipped dejectedly, you bite your lip. Staring into your drink, you are stirring the ice with a cellophane-topped toothpick. With a sigh, you pull your sleeve back and look at your watch. Dropping some bills on the bar by your still-full glass, you slip off the stool—and right against me. Your elbow jostles my arm. The clear fluid in my hastily purchased second glass splashes my shirt, drenching me, plastering the light silk to my body in a cold rush. This makes me hiss in anger.
Mortified, you fumble an apology, face beet-red, even in the dim light. Grabbing some napkins, you try to swab off the mess. Tears fill your eyes, trembling on the lashes and threaten to slip down your flushed cheeks. With a low growl, I grasp your hand in my wrist, fingers easily encircling you, feeling your pulse pounding as you whimper in distress.
"Just...stop," I grunt out, teeth grit in frustration even as my dick hardens. Sad, vulnerable and just a little frightened, you appeal to my mood as nothing else could. Your eyes hold a world-weary wisdom. In other times I might have tried to ease your obvious pain a little. Tonight I just don't care.
"I'm sorry. Oh my god, I'm so sorry. Here, please... let me pay for... Oh, I'm so sorry," you stammer, mindlessly riveted by my dark, piercing, infuriated gaze. Trembling slightly, you brush some errant curls back from your cheeks. Breaking my stare, you take a deep breath and close your eyes. You obviously are gathering your composure. My eyes drop to your obvious charms as your bid for control pushes them against your plain white shirt. It shows an enticing amount of cleavage as your chest swells, much too briefly for my liking..
"Here, let me give you some money to pay for that to be cleaned," you state in the smooth, firm voice used by teachers on recalcitrant students.
Squeezing the wrist I still hold, the very edges of my lips curling up at your gasp of pain. I slowly shake my head, watching as you bite your lip. Again, you are obviously trying to figure out how to handle this situation with both dignity and effect. The small furrow between your brows and the sight of your teeth indenting the full smoothness of your lip sends a quiver of desire through me. Oh yes, you'll definitely do, with your heady combination of confidence and vulnerability.
"No? What do you mean, 'no'? If you don't want me to pay for your shirt, then kindly let me go!" You tug at your wrist, as if to remind me that I am still holding your captive. The feral grin I shoot you at your actions sends a shiver of apprehension along your frame, visible to my discerning eye.
"A couple of bucks won't pay for this... this rag.... Thanks lady, this is now the most expensive dustcloth you've ever seen. Not to mention my skin is sticky and my pants are wet, too." At my low, growling tone, your eyes scan my chest, waist, hips, widening in dismay at the saturated fabric darkened by your clumsiness.
Tilting your chin, I feel you stiffen your spine. This, meanwhile, causes my vision to once more lock on your assets. Tossing your hair, you icily decree that if I'll follow you out to your car, you'd be more than happy to write me a check to cover the damages. Swallowing my grin of triumph, I merely nod, motioning you to precede me through the crowd. I am still glaring at you. Once your back is turned and the click-click of your heels tells of your own rising temper, I openly smile. Admiring the straight line of your back, I enjoy seeing the swing of your dark red curls against that white shirt, the sway of your hips wrapped in a snug black skirt and those long, sexy legs. I picture them wrapped around my waist as I explode inside of you.
As we work our way through the crowd to the door, I am caught between my growing lust for the curvy figure in front of me and my rage at how this day has gone. Exiting the bar, the cold air on my wet clothing makes my breath hiss, a sound that makes you flush again even as your step quickens. I lengthen my stride to match yours. Catching glimpses of your nipples visibly hardening in the winter night air, I noticed your jacket was forgotten in the bar. The chirp and flashing lights of your disabled alarm let me know which car is yours.
Opening your door, you set one knee on the seat and bend over, fumbling for your purse where it's wedged under the passenger seat. Your skirt is hiked up some, pulled tight against your shape as you struggle to retrieve a checkbook. When you brace a hand against the dash, I am treated to the alluring shift and wiggle of your breasts as they press against your shirt. They are shifting and swaying as you mutter curses at purses, men and life in general. Your balance slips. You stretch to adjust, which pulls your skirt up more. This affords me a nice look at your purple silk garter belt where it clips onto your lace-topped stocking. My response is immediate. I have to adjust myself behind my zipper.
"C'mon lady, I don't have all night," I bite out, my frustration boiling over.
With a gasp of outrage, you finally yank the checkbook out of the purse. Stumbling out of the car, you slam the door and turn on me, irritation evident in every line of your body. Sparks shoot from your eyes as you hiss your request that I go fuck myself, temper overriding caution. It is only when I slam my body against yours, pinning you to the car, that I see the realization of your situation flood through your eyes. It's late. We're alone in the darkened parking lot of a noisy bar, you just shut the door on your only means of escape and your damn mobile is resting on the seat. As these thoughts flood your mind, I feel you freeze with comprehension before you begin to struggle, full of fear and angry at yourself. You're normally smarter than this, wiser than this.
Kicking, wriggling, you struggle against me, pushing at your shoulders, twisting your head away as my lips draw closer, breath flaring over your skin. You are breathless, unable to scream as I nip at your jaw. Groaning as you lean back away from my touch, inadvertently pushing your hips harder against my own. You gasp at my obvious arousal and I begin to grind it into you, rubbing myself into the cradle of your hips. Squealing, you jerk your hips away, bringing your face close to mine...too close. I grasp your chin in my hand, holding you still, squishing your mouth. Your lips pucker as your eyes fill with fear. You desperately look for a way out, but there is no escape and we both know it.
With both your wrists held tight in one of my big hands, I wrap my fist in your shirt and jerk, the buttons flying and material ripping. Your soft white skin is exposed in the dim light. I am able to make out the satiny glimmer of a purple bra that I'm sure matches that sexy garter I already saw. Your whimpering excites me even more, as do your shivers in this cold air, which make your breasts tremble invitingly.
Enervated at how easy it is to dominate this woman, to dominate anything after the day I've had, I breathe hard. I am losing my grip on what little control I had. Grasping the silky purple material of your bra, I yank it down off your breasts, moaning at your whine of pain. Pressing tight against you, I force you against the car. Your own body pins your hands. This frees mine to maul your breasts, twisting, tugging and pulling your nipples while I ravish your soft mouth. Nipping at your lips when you refuse entry, I draw blood with the pressure of my mouth on yours. With a sob you relent, feeling my tongue sweep through your mouth. Yet before you can think to close your teeth on this invader, I squeeze your breasts hard enough to make you see stars behind your tightly closed eyelids.
When I step back, you are still pinned in place, trembling, whimpering in both pain and fear. Warm tears course down your cheeks, splashing onto the full curve of your breasts, glimmering in the light before trailing away. Your lips are swollen, bruised, with blood dripping from the corner of your mouth. Your hair is a wild mess of curls, your eyes huge and brown, magnified by the tears. But even under the warmth of my palm, your nipples are still hard, a fact I point out with a hard, feral grin. Your resulting cry of "bastard" earns you a palm across your cheek. Your head hasn't stopped spinning before my hand is shoving your skirt up, ripping the satin panties and shoving them in my pocket. Feeling the heat of your barely moistened pussy against the brute force of my invading fingers pleases me.
Grabbing your arm, I shove your toward the back of your car. Bending you over the trunk, I pin your hands behind your shoulders. Your breasts crush into the cold metal, this makes you gasp. When you start to inhale for what would surely be an ear-piercing scream, I shove your own panties in your mouth. This makes you taste your juices, effectively silencing you. Pushing your tear-stained cheek to the metal, I kick your ankles apart. Shoving a knee up between your thighs, I use my own weight to spread your legs wider. Now I am pushing right up against you, intimately aware of your heat against my hardness.
Pulling my zipper open, I press my hard length against you and hear you inadvertent moan. You try to pull away, but I apply a little more pressure to your already aching arms, making you sob in frustration. In seconds I am sheathed deep inside of you, my ears filling with the heady sounds of your whimpers and screams. Your barely moist pussy stretches and adjusts to my size. You arch on tiptoes, trying to relieve the burning stretch of your pussy. This just gives me even more room to push deeper inside, until I'm filling every part of your warm, wet center as it flutters and pulsates.
With a shudder, I start slamming in and out of you, concerned with nothing except the pleasure of my own black dick. Enjoying your gasps as they turn into moans, I feel your body accepting me. You are getting wet for me, despite what your eyes are saying. One hand easily holds your wrists, while the other grasps your hip. I focus on holding you pinned between my hips and the cold metal trunk. The only sounds evident are those of our breathing and your wetness as I slam in and out of you.
Harder and harder I fuck you, growling my pleasure as my frustrations are released on your body. Your body's wetness betrays your own arousal at my treatment of you. Your soft, smoothly shaved pussy fits my dick like a glove. I feel you tremble and quiver against me. Your soft moans turn to cries of lust as tears pour down your cheeks at your response to this penetration. All the while your pussy gushes cream around my length, splashing against the car, my balls and fingers when I have released your hip to rub your clit instead.
Feeling you explode, as you quiver and clench around me, I strangle my own cry of frustration and pride. Flipping you over, I slam back into you with one spearing thrust. Your juices still gush. Pounding you, I lift your knees onto my elbows. Next I grasp your sides just below those trembling breasts and sink even deeper into you. Making you writhe in pain, I stretch you even further. Your nails dig into my arms and shoulders, as the expulsion of cream on the metal trunk makes you slip and slide.
Ceaselessly pounding you, I reach up and rip the forgotten panties from between your lips. I grin as you shriek your pleasure. Wrapping your legs around me, you pull m tightly to you. Mashing your plump lips to min, you rake your nails down my back; scratching, grasping and marking me. The sweat burns in those scratches as my tongue tangles with yours. I savour the taste of your pussy where your panties had been. Your pussy still gushes and clamps around me. In addition, your moans and cries echo in my mouth as I fucks you. Slamming you into the car has me rocking on my springs as I take out my day on your unwitting pussy.
Finally, with a groan of relief, I explode inside you. Filling your sopping wet pussy with my warm cream, I saturate the deepest reaches of your ravaged pussy. I growl that with this much cum, you are sure to end up pregnant. Thrusting and grunting, I make you accept every drop, before pulling out and quickly redressing. You remain laying there with eyes closed. The tear tracks are visible on your flushed cheeks. Between your splayed thighs is the shimmery evidence of our mutual pleasure. I notice that your nipples are still hard. You turn your head and look at me, all big brown eyes and mussed up hair.
Slowly you sit up, body bruised and aching from the pounding you just got. Still our eyes are locked with volumes comfortably unspoken between us. You lean your head against my shoulder. I rub your back gently, unsure what to say. Finally you speak, "You owe me a new shirt," you say, pouting, plucking at the frayed material.
"It was mine anyway," I grin, relieved, kissing your temple. I put an arm around your waist. "Now, did you happen to bring money for the babysitter or do we need to hit the ATM on the way home?"
No, tonight is all for me. If the world is gonna fuck me, I am going return some of the favour. I chuckle darkly, ordering my drink and slamming it down. I don't drink at all, but I am entitled this time. And one drink, the limit I'd set for myself, would take the edge off my day and off my conscience. This also ensures that I am far from drunk. I quietly hiss as the gin burns its way down my throat. Then I turn to browse the offerings again, halfway resigning to fucking one of the barely twenty something bubble-butted bobble-heads, as I refer to them.
Almost growling my frustration, I start to step towards a table of co-eds when a soft voice seems to cut through the fog of noise. It slithers over my eardrums. Soft, slightly sad and definitely older than the rest of this college crowd, the tone is entrancing, even while the words are lost to the clatter of a busy bar. I stiffen, every sense on alert now, scanning the crush of revelers to find the owner of that sexy voice.
At the end of the bar, I find you. Head dipped dejectedly, you bite your lip. Staring into your drink, you are stirring the ice with a cellophane-topped toothpick. With a sigh, you pull your sleeve back and look at your watch. Dropping some bills on the bar by your still-full glass, you slip off the stool—and right against me. Your elbow jostles my arm. The clear fluid in my hastily purchased second glass splashes my shirt, drenching me, plastering the light silk to my body in a cold rush. This makes me hiss in anger.
Mortified, you fumble an apology, face beet-red, even in the dim light. Grabbing some napkins, you try to swab off the mess. Tears fill your eyes, trembling on the lashes and threaten to slip down your flushed cheeks. With a low growl, I grasp your hand in my wrist, fingers easily encircling you, feeling your pulse pounding as you whimper in distress.
"Just...stop," I grunt out, teeth grit in frustration even as my dick hardens. Sad, vulnerable and just a little frightened, you appeal to my mood as nothing else could. Your eyes hold a world-weary wisdom. In other times I might have tried to ease your obvious pain a little. Tonight I just don't care.
"I'm sorry. Oh my god, I'm so sorry. Here, please... let me pay for... Oh, I'm so sorry," you stammer, mindlessly riveted by my dark, piercing, infuriated gaze. Trembling slightly, you brush some errant curls back from your cheeks. Breaking my stare, you take a deep breath and close your eyes. You obviously are gathering your composure. My eyes drop to your obvious charms as your bid for control pushes them against your plain white shirt. It shows an enticing amount of cleavage as your chest swells, much too briefly for my liking..
"Here, let me give you some money to pay for that to be cleaned," you state in the smooth, firm voice used by teachers on recalcitrant students.
Squeezing the wrist I still hold, the very edges of my lips curling up at your gasp of pain. I slowly shake my head, watching as you bite your lip. Again, you are obviously trying to figure out how to handle this situation with both dignity and effect. The small furrow between your brows and the sight of your teeth indenting the full smoothness of your lip sends a quiver of desire through me. Oh yes, you'll definitely do, with your heady combination of confidence and vulnerability.
"No? What do you mean, 'no'? If you don't want me to pay for your shirt, then kindly let me go!" You tug at your wrist, as if to remind me that I am still holding your captive. The feral grin I shoot you at your actions sends a shiver of apprehension along your frame, visible to my discerning eye.
"A couple of bucks won't pay for this... this rag.... Thanks lady, this is now the most expensive dustcloth you've ever seen. Not to mention my skin is sticky and my pants are wet, too." At my low, growling tone, your eyes scan my chest, waist, hips, widening in dismay at the saturated fabric darkened by your clumsiness.
Tilting your chin, I feel you stiffen your spine. This, meanwhile, causes my vision to once more lock on your assets. Tossing your hair, you icily decree that if I'll follow you out to your car, you'd be more than happy to write me a check to cover the damages. Swallowing my grin of triumph, I merely nod, motioning you to precede me through the crowd. I am still glaring at you. Once your back is turned and the click-click of your heels tells of your own rising temper, I openly smile. Admiring the straight line of your back, I enjoy seeing the swing of your dark red curls against that white shirt, the sway of your hips wrapped in a snug black skirt and those long, sexy legs. I picture them wrapped around my waist as I explode inside of you.
As we work our way through the crowd to the door, I am caught between my growing lust for the curvy figure in front of me and my rage at how this day has gone. Exiting the bar, the cold air on my wet clothing makes my breath hiss, a sound that makes you flush again even as your step quickens. I lengthen my stride to match yours. Catching glimpses of your nipples visibly hardening in the winter night air, I noticed your jacket was forgotten in the bar. The chirp and flashing lights of your disabled alarm let me know which car is yours.
Opening your door, you set one knee on the seat and bend over, fumbling for your purse where it's wedged under the passenger seat. Your skirt is hiked up some, pulled tight against your shape as you struggle to retrieve a checkbook. When you brace a hand against the dash, I am treated to the alluring shift and wiggle of your breasts as they press against your shirt. They are shifting and swaying as you mutter curses at purses, men and life in general. Your balance slips. You stretch to adjust, which pulls your skirt up more. This affords me a nice look at your purple silk garter belt where it clips onto your lace-topped stocking. My response is immediate. I have to adjust myself behind my zipper.
"C'mon lady, I don't have all night," I bite out, my frustration boiling over.
With a gasp of outrage, you finally yank the checkbook out of the purse. Stumbling out of the car, you slam the door and turn on me, irritation evident in every line of your body. Sparks shoot from your eyes as you hiss your request that I go fuck myself, temper overriding caution. It is only when I slam my body against yours, pinning you to the car, that I see the realization of your situation flood through your eyes. It's late. We're alone in the darkened parking lot of a noisy bar, you just shut the door on your only means of escape and your damn mobile is resting on the seat. As these thoughts flood your mind, I feel you freeze with comprehension before you begin to struggle, full of fear and angry at yourself. You're normally smarter than this, wiser than this.
Kicking, wriggling, you struggle against me, pushing at your shoulders, twisting your head away as my lips draw closer, breath flaring over your skin. You are breathless, unable to scream as I nip at your jaw. Groaning as you lean back away from my touch, inadvertently pushing your hips harder against my own. You gasp at my obvious arousal and I begin to grind it into you, rubbing myself into the cradle of your hips. Squealing, you jerk your hips away, bringing your face close to mine...too close. I grasp your chin in my hand, holding you still, squishing your mouth. Your lips pucker as your eyes fill with fear. You desperately look for a way out, but there is no escape and we both know it.
With both your wrists held tight in one of my big hands, I wrap my fist in your shirt and jerk, the buttons flying and material ripping. Your soft white skin is exposed in the dim light. I am able to make out the satiny glimmer of a purple bra that I'm sure matches that sexy garter I already saw. Your whimpering excites me even more, as do your shivers in this cold air, which make your breasts tremble invitingly.
Enervated at how easy it is to dominate this woman, to dominate anything after the day I've had, I breathe hard. I am losing my grip on what little control I had. Grasping the silky purple material of your bra, I yank it down off your breasts, moaning at your whine of pain. Pressing tight against you, I force you against the car. Your own body pins your hands. This frees mine to maul your breasts, twisting, tugging and pulling your nipples while I ravish your soft mouth. Nipping at your lips when you refuse entry, I draw blood with the pressure of my mouth on yours. With a sob you relent, feeling my tongue sweep through your mouth. Yet before you can think to close your teeth on this invader, I squeeze your breasts hard enough to make you see stars behind your tightly closed eyelids.
When I step back, you are still pinned in place, trembling, whimpering in both pain and fear. Warm tears course down your cheeks, splashing onto the full curve of your breasts, glimmering in the light before trailing away. Your lips are swollen, bruised, with blood dripping from the corner of your mouth. Your hair is a wild mess of curls, your eyes huge and brown, magnified by the tears. But even under the warmth of my palm, your nipples are still hard, a fact I point out with a hard, feral grin. Your resulting cry of "bastard" earns you a palm across your cheek. Your head hasn't stopped spinning before my hand is shoving your skirt up, ripping the satin panties and shoving them in my pocket. Feeling the heat of your barely moistened pussy against the brute force of my invading fingers pleases me.
Grabbing your arm, I shove your toward the back of your car. Bending you over the trunk, I pin your hands behind your shoulders. Your breasts crush into the cold metal, this makes you gasp. When you start to inhale for what would surely be an ear-piercing scream, I shove your own panties in your mouth. This makes you taste your juices, effectively silencing you. Pushing your tear-stained cheek to the metal, I kick your ankles apart. Shoving a knee up between your thighs, I use my own weight to spread your legs wider. Now I am pushing right up against you, intimately aware of your heat against my hardness.
Pulling my zipper open, I press my hard length against you and hear you inadvertent moan. You try to pull away, but I apply a little more pressure to your already aching arms, making you sob in frustration. In seconds I am sheathed deep inside of you, my ears filling with the heady sounds of your whimpers and screams. Your barely moist pussy stretches and adjusts to my size. You arch on tiptoes, trying to relieve the burning stretch of your pussy. This just gives me even more room to push deeper inside, until I'm filling every part of your warm, wet center as it flutters and pulsates.
With a shudder, I start slamming in and out of you, concerned with nothing except the pleasure of my own black dick. Enjoying your gasps as they turn into moans, I feel your body accepting me. You are getting wet for me, despite what your eyes are saying. One hand easily holds your wrists, while the other grasps your hip. I focus on holding you pinned between my hips and the cold metal trunk. The only sounds evident are those of our breathing and your wetness as I slam in and out of you.
Harder and harder I fuck you, growling my pleasure as my frustrations are released on your body. Your body's wetness betrays your own arousal at my treatment of you. Your soft, smoothly shaved pussy fits my dick like a glove. I feel you tremble and quiver against me. Your soft moans turn to cries of lust as tears pour down your cheeks at your response to this penetration. All the while your pussy gushes cream around my length, splashing against the car, my balls and fingers when I have released your hip to rub your clit instead.
Feeling you explode, as you quiver and clench around me, I strangle my own cry of frustration and pride. Flipping you over, I slam back into you with one spearing thrust. Your juices still gush. Pounding you, I lift your knees onto my elbows. Next I grasp your sides just below those trembling breasts and sink even deeper into you. Making you writhe in pain, I stretch you even further. Your nails dig into my arms and shoulders, as the expulsion of cream on the metal trunk makes you slip and slide.
Ceaselessly pounding you, I reach up and rip the forgotten panties from between your lips. I grin as you shriek your pleasure. Wrapping your legs around me, you pull m tightly to you. Mashing your plump lips to min, you rake your nails down my back; scratching, grasping and marking me. The sweat burns in those scratches as my tongue tangles with yours. I savour the taste of your pussy where your panties had been. Your pussy still gushes and clamps around me. In addition, your moans and cries echo in my mouth as I fucks you. Slamming you into the car has me rocking on my springs as I take out my day on your unwitting pussy.
Finally, with a groan of relief, I explode inside you. Filling your sopping wet pussy with my warm cream, I saturate the deepest reaches of your ravaged pussy. I growl that with this much cum, you are sure to end up pregnant. Thrusting and grunting, I make you accept every drop, before pulling out and quickly redressing. You remain laying there with eyes closed. The tear tracks are visible on your flushed cheeks. Between your splayed thighs is the shimmery evidence of our mutual pleasure. I notice that your nipples are still hard. You turn your head and look at me, all big brown eyes and mussed up hair.
Slowly you sit up, body bruised and aching from the pounding you just got. Still our eyes are locked with volumes comfortably unspoken between us. You lean your head against my shoulder. I rub your back gently, unsure what to say. Finally you speak, "You owe me a new shirt," you say, pouting, plucking at the frayed material.
"It was mine anyway," I grin, relieved, kissing your temple. I put an arm around your waist. "Now, did you happen to bring money for the babysitter or do we need to hit the ATM on the way home?"
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