Thangaiku Theriyaamal Amma Magalai Oothen
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Mounted On The Broom free porn video
You have gone to the hardware and bought a broom. The purpose of the broom is not to clean your apartment. Instead, its purpose is to provide you with yet another way to torment your body for our mutual pleasure. Namely, after cutting its handle to the right length and trimming its bristles so that their ends form a sharp ridge, you are going to introduce that prickly ridge into the tender cleft between your labia and stand with the broom suspended between your crotch and the floor. You have taken care to cut the handle so that you will have to either stand on your toes or allow the bristles to dig into the folds of exquisitely sensitive flesh that nature has designed for an entirely different sort of invasion. You will remain mounted on the broom until you achieve an orgasm induced by the unrelenting and cruel kiss that the bristles will give to your clitoris. During your time on the broom, I insist that you be acutely conscious of the image that you are making. This is not to be only an erotically charged form of self-immolation, it is to be an opportunity for
you to appreciate just how beautiful the female body can be when its
occupant willingly submits herself to pain in the pursuit of sexual
pleasure.
To heighten your experience as well for my own, I first accompany you into
the bathroom and give you a protracted, warm bath into which I have put a
rose scented bath oil. While you loll in the bath, I scrupulously scrub
your body, paying particular attention to the region that will soon be
visited by the head of the broom. Using my fingers, I open your labia and
stroke the stalk of your clitoris until it emerges and protrudes slightly
from its fleshy nest. Your head drops back into the water as I continue,
but I do not allow you the gratification that the flexing of your pelvis
and lower belly indicate you are seeking. When I see that you have entered
a dreamy state in which you are sexually excited but reconciled to my
denial of consummation, I lift you out of the bath, stand you in front of
the bathroom mirror, and dry you off. Once you are dry, I spend a long
time first brushing and then plaiting your hair into a thick pigtail that
will hang over your right shoulder. Finally, I dust your warm body with a
thin layer of powder that gives your skin a lovely, dusky tone.
Having prepared your body, I lead you naked into the bedroom and place you
a few feet in front of the full length mirror there. Because I want to
emphasize your acceptance of the ordeal that you are about to experience,
after fetching the broom, I hand it to you. With a look of intense
concentration on your face, you grasp the handle just below the broom head
with your right hand. Spreading your legs a little, you use the fingers of
your left hand to separate your labia while you gingerly introduce the bristles
into the moist envelope where they will be lodged for the duration. Once
you have them seated, you close your legs, rise onto your toes, and lower
the broom handle until it rests against the inner sides of your thighs and
its end is touching the floor.
I cannot help but be impressed by both the grace with which you perform
this perverse exercise and the effect that it has on your image. After you
have got the broom in place, you draw back your shoulders and thrust your
breasts forward. Standing on your toes, the muscles in your legs and hips
are visible beneath the femininely soft layer of flesh that covers them.
Your look of concentration has been replaced by a smile of satisfaction,
and, as if to perfect the image that you see in the mirror, you raise your
arms and clasp your hands behind your head. Briefly, you shift your gaze
and stare at my reflection with a look that is a marvelous combination of
defiance and acquiescence. In response, I step forward and run my hands
along the firm columns of your straining legs and the taut mounds of your
buttock. Under my fingers, I can feel a slight trembling as your muscles
begin to tire. After several minutes, the trembling increases and the
muscles in your calves begin to cramp. I watch with fascination as you
weigh in your mind the relief that lowering your body will give your legs
versus the punishment that your clitoris will receive from the bristles.
Your initial, tentative experiments convince you that the burning
sensation in your muscles is preferable to the prickling sensation in your
vulva. However, as time passes, I notice that your priorities begin to
change. You spend longer and longer periods with the bristles penetrating
deeper and deeper into your crotch.
Finally, you lower your heels to the floor and stand flat on your feet. As
a consequence, the bristles are now pressing hard into the delicate flesh
on the insides of your labia and the hood of your clitoris. As evidenced
by your gasps and the tears in your eyes, the resulting combination of pain
and sexual stimulation is overwhelming. For a while, you hold your body
rigidly still as you absorb these sensations. However, once you
come to terms with them, you body begins to move in a subtle, highly
sensual dance. Using the broom head as a fulcrum, your pelvis
moves back and forth, thereby subtly shifting the bristles embedded in
your vulva. Previously, your tummy had been sucked in and flat, but now it
has swelled into a firm, round contour that expands and contracts in unison
with the swaying of your pelvis. When, through your tears, a look that
reflects bliss more than pain appears on your features, I know that you
have figured out a way of achieving orgasm by impaling your clitoris on the
spikes that your labia are enveloping. Though inevitable, your climax will
be slow in coming, but in the meantime, you will be treating both of us to
a sight that is as aesthetically pleasing as it is erotically potent.
It takes you five minutes to reach orgasm, and you are exhausted by the time
that you do. I clasp your wilting body and gently extract the broom from
between your shivering legs. The bristles are coated with your
secretions. Hoisting you onto my shoulder, I carry you into the living
room and d**** you front down over the back of a chair. Your vulva is a
livid pink and your labia are puffy but remain spread in what appears to be
an open invitation. My penis is already fully erect from watching your
performance on the broom, and the walls of your vagina are slick when I
introduce my erection into your welcoming body. Your excitement is soon
rekindled by my presence in your interior, but, after your earlier orgasm,
you are satisfied to let it be stoked slowly. Sensing that our coupling
will be protracted, I reach under your body and cup your pendulous breasts
in my hands. Mindful of the residual soreness of your vulva, I use your
breasts as handles to rock your body back and forth so that your vaginal
sheath massages my penis. I would like our union to continue indefinitely,
but eventually my body becomes impatient and demands release.
Unable to resist the seductive milking that your vaginal contractions is
giving my penis, I ejaculate deep into your receptive body and,
without withdrawing, slump forward over your bent back. With my lips
nuzzling the soft hairs on the back of your neck, I whisper my gratitude
for the sacrifice that you made to give us such mutual pleasure.
you to appreciate just how beautiful the female body can be when its
occupant willingly submits herself to pain in the pursuit of sexual
pleasure.
To heighten your experience as well for my own, I first accompany you into
the bathroom and give you a protracted, warm bath into which I have put a
rose scented bath oil. While you loll in the bath, I scrupulously scrub
your body, paying particular attention to the region that will soon be
visited by the head of the broom. Using my fingers, I open your labia and
stroke the stalk of your clitoris until it emerges and protrudes slightly
from its fleshy nest. Your head drops back into the water as I continue,
but I do not allow you the gratification that the flexing of your pelvis
and lower belly indicate you are seeking. When I see that you have entered
a dreamy state in which you are sexually excited but reconciled to my
denial of consummation, I lift you out of the bath, stand you in front of
the bathroom mirror, and dry you off. Once you are dry, I spend a long
time first brushing and then plaiting your hair into a thick pigtail that
will hang over your right shoulder. Finally, I dust your warm body with a
thin layer of powder that gives your skin a lovely, dusky tone.
Having prepared your body, I lead you naked into the bedroom and place you
a few feet in front of the full length mirror there. Because I want to
emphasize your acceptance of the ordeal that you are about to experience,
after fetching the broom, I hand it to you. With a look of intense
concentration on your face, you grasp the handle just below the broom head
with your right hand. Spreading your legs a little, you use the fingers of
your left hand to separate your labia while you gingerly introduce the bristles
into the moist envelope where they will be lodged for the duration. Once
you have them seated, you close your legs, rise onto your toes, and lower
the broom handle until it rests against the inner sides of your thighs and
its end is touching the floor.
I cannot help but be impressed by both the grace with which you perform
this perverse exercise and the effect that it has on your image. After you
have got the broom in place, you draw back your shoulders and thrust your
breasts forward. Standing on your toes, the muscles in your legs and hips
are visible beneath the femininely soft layer of flesh that covers them.
Your look of concentration has been replaced by a smile of satisfaction,
and, as if to perfect the image that you see in the mirror, you raise your
arms and clasp your hands behind your head. Briefly, you shift your gaze
and stare at my reflection with a look that is a marvelous combination of
defiance and acquiescence. In response, I step forward and run my hands
along the firm columns of your straining legs and the taut mounds of your
buttock. Under my fingers, I can feel a slight trembling as your muscles
begin to tire. After several minutes, the trembling increases and the
muscles in your calves begin to cramp. I watch with fascination as you
weigh in your mind the relief that lowering your body will give your legs
versus the punishment that your clitoris will receive from the bristles.
Your initial, tentative experiments convince you that the burning
sensation in your muscles is preferable to the prickling sensation in your
vulva. However, as time passes, I notice that your priorities begin to
change. You spend longer and longer periods with the bristles penetrating
deeper and deeper into your crotch.
Finally, you lower your heels to the floor and stand flat on your feet. As
a consequence, the bristles are now pressing hard into the delicate flesh
on the insides of your labia and the hood of your clitoris. As evidenced
by your gasps and the tears in your eyes, the resulting combination of pain
and sexual stimulation is overwhelming. For a while, you hold your body
rigidly still as you absorb these sensations. However, once you
come to terms with them, you body begins to move in a subtle, highly
sensual dance. Using the broom head as a fulcrum, your pelvis
moves back and forth, thereby subtly shifting the bristles embedded in
your vulva. Previously, your tummy had been sucked in and flat, but now it
has swelled into a firm, round contour that expands and contracts in unison
with the swaying of your pelvis. When, through your tears, a look that
reflects bliss more than pain appears on your features, I know that you
have figured out a way of achieving orgasm by impaling your clitoris on the
spikes that your labia are enveloping. Though inevitable, your climax will
be slow in coming, but in the meantime, you will be treating both of us to
a sight that is as aesthetically pleasing as it is erotically potent.
It takes you five minutes to reach orgasm, and you are exhausted by the time
that you do. I clasp your wilting body and gently extract the broom from
between your shivering legs. The bristles are coated with your
secretions. Hoisting you onto my shoulder, I carry you into the living
room and d**** you front down over the back of a chair. Your vulva is a
livid pink and your labia are puffy but remain spread in what appears to be
an open invitation. My penis is already fully erect from watching your
performance on the broom, and the walls of your vagina are slick when I
introduce my erection into your welcoming body. Your excitement is soon
rekindled by my presence in your interior, but, after your earlier orgasm,
you are satisfied to let it be stoked slowly. Sensing that our coupling
will be protracted, I reach under your body and cup your pendulous breasts
in my hands. Mindful of the residual soreness of your vulva, I use your
breasts as handles to rock your body back and forth so that your vaginal
sheath massages my penis. I would like our union to continue indefinitely,
but eventually my body becomes impatient and demands release.
Unable to resist the seductive milking that your vaginal contractions is
giving my penis, I ejaculate deep into your receptive body and,
without withdrawing, slump forward over your bent back. With my lips
nuzzling the soft hairs on the back of your neck, I whisper my gratitude
for the sacrifice that you made to give us such mutual pleasure.
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