Voodoo Brat s Plaything
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Voodoo In HaitiChapter 5 free porn video
Henrietta Nevins was one of those women who have been great beauties in their youth, and have led a life of elegance and worldly frequentation. She had been raised and kept within the wealthiest strata of society in whose circles she had shone with a beauty always enhanced by her costly elegance and refined sociability. Her education meant refinement and not precisely knowledge and her culture had the superficiality of an ornament and not the functionality of any given profession. In short, Henrietta had been brought up with the only function of shining in the glittering balls of high society.
So, at an early age, she already felt that the desire to get married that all young girls feel when their womanhood is in full bloom, In her didn't mean a romantic desire to experience love, but rather a deeply compelling urge to experience the pleasures of sex.
In truth, she had been besieged by proposals, but of all, she immediately took on to Orville Nevins, a huge he-man in his early forties, a man whom she felt to be different from all other.
Orville Nevins was the type of man who doesn't look quite right in formal attire, and yet one who always impeccably dressed. He had that rugged sensuality of the athlete, without being precisely one, and the firm, matter-of-fact attitude of the man who has proven himself to be successful and feels second to no other in any ground.
Henrietta was immediately attracted by the man whom she thought could give her a more ardent, animal-like form of physical love. They were married and indeed Orville didn't disappoint her in her expectations.
She lost almost every contact with her former friends and ways of life, even though Orville tried to give her all the comforts of civilization. But still, his work and his life were at the plantation, and he couldn't spend much time abroad as she would have wanted.
Then, when she least expected it to happen, struck: Orville had an accident. His small private plane crashed and he almost got killed.
The pilot died, and Orville came out of the accident alive but crippled.
They went from one specialist of another, to no avail. Orville was condemned to spend the rest of his life in a wheel chair, and suffering of frequent muscular pains. The physician in whose care he was at the time recommended to seek the services of a physio-therapist.
That is precisely when Roger Antrim came into the picture.
Henrietta leaned her aching head against her dressing table. She was alone in the huge master bedroom, having left Roger downstairs drinking and as pleasant as a boar. All day long, she had felt the nervous tension building up inside her. It was familiar; she knew her own body well enough to recognize the symptoms. She didn't have to guess at what was bothering her. It was like a heavy hammer banging upon her brain...
Sex...
The hollow emptiness in her belly had a craving and it wasn't for food or drink... But tonight, nothing would help. Roger was back. Roger... And of course, he wouldn't come up; he wouldn't fulfill his husbandry duties...
Henrietta shook her aching head and an expression of mingled tiredness and bitterness appeared on her face. Her hand reached for the bottle of sleeping pills and she swallowed the tiny drops of oblivion. A few minutes later, she lied down on the huge bed which had once withstood her passionate animal coupling with Orville Nevins, then her breathing began getting more regular and she lapsed into the blissful unawareness of sleep...
Roger Antrim had remained alone in the sitting room, sipping slowly on his cognac. No, he didn't want to make love to Henrietta and he had let her go up to their bedroom without paying any attention to the silent appeal in her somber eyes.
He was the one who had insisted the Carltons be given the Blue Room. He well knew with what purpose. Soon, when the stillness and silence of the night would have settled upon Nevins Mansion, he would climb up the stairs to the second floor and slip into the room adjoining the one where Alice and Richard would probably be enjoying their intimacy...
The sight of his former girl friend's shapely body completely out of control under the caresses of another man incited deep lustful passions in Roger, passions that he had forgotten even existed that powerfully within him. He could hear distinctly the low moans escaping from Alice's softly anguished lips as Dick proceeded to pass his wet, licking tongue in a loving exploration of every nook and crevice of her lovely, writhing body. The little bitch, he thought, the shameless little slut! Oh, how he would have liked it to be his own tongue exploring and tasting the delightful creamy flesh...
He reached down, passing his hand over the hardening, throbbing bulge tightening the material of his trousers painfully. Pulling down the zipper, he eased his jerking organ out of its confining prison and the thick rod of flesh was already quite rigid with the downflow of blood rushing from his excited body down to his heated loins. He spread his legs slightly apart, now pumping at himself both hands until his cock was rock hard and glistening in the dim light penetrating from the window.
"Ooohhh, this animal is going to take her from the back!" Roger muttered to himself. The little slut does everything now! ooooh oohhh! How she squirms! She's begging for it!"
He kept on watching the obscene spectacle with a curious mixture of pleasure and rage. Pleasure building up at the sight of such an exciting scene. Rage at the thought that he wasn't the one fucking the hell out of Alice... Oh, but he would, he decided... he would fuck the little bitch and make her beg for it. Oh, she was playing the proud, faithful wife, eh, eh! Not with Roger Anthem! He wouldn't fall for such hypocrisy. He still remembered clearly that night in his car when he had almost taken her, and then at the voodoo show, her wild excitement under his caresses...
Roger's eyes bulged from their sockets at the breath-taking maneuvers in which Dick and Alice were engaged, and he felt tiny droplets of cum oozing from the tiny opening at the head of his straining, throbbing penis. It took all of his control to keep himself from ejaculating right then and there. But he wanted to see the exciting spectacle to the end. Small moans, barely audible rolled from his open mouth, now salivating tiny trickles of spittle down the sew of his chin.
Roger masturbated himself with all his being, his hand pulling at his thick instrument in a hungry sawing movement. He grinned lewdly as he watched Alice's lust-contorted face in the dim light of the room and Dick's throbbing cock being driven deeper and deeper between her swaying buttocks.
His eyes glazed with a wild animal lust, he saw them cumming together in a perfect explosion of spurting lava and convulsing orgasm. And then they lay still, limbs entwined, faces covered with perspiration, a smile of satisfaction playing on their lips. They were satiated, and he was not. His throbbing organ jerked painfully between his fingers and he wanted to ram it deep up into a wet; warm, welcoming cunt...
Henrietta looked strikingly lovely in the soft bedroom lights she had left on before falling asleep. Her long, almost jet black hair cascading down framed her smooth skin in a dark velvety background. The tight chignon that she usually wore in a harsh and severe style note hung loose in flowing strands, seeming to take years off her age. She looked like a young woman again. Her features, in the repose of sleep, did not have the tense, anguished, somewhat sharp expression she affected when awaken, and their aristocratic clear-cut softness belied the cold manner she often tried to project.
In her sleep, the thin strap of her transparent black gown had slipped over her shoulder, and the flimsy material now exposed a firm, well-rounded breast.
Roger Antrim stood at the door of the master bedroom, looking at his sleeping wife, and visibly shaken at the sudden sight of her soft, fleshy mound. He hadn't even bothered to put his rock-hard, jerking cock back inside his trousers, and the thick fleshy rod quivered as Roger gazed at his wife's uncovered breast in a mesmerized trance, feeling a sudden shudder of passion rippling through him.
Makenna
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