Meister T Hilla Art Nouveau vs Gothic
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Disparate HousewivesChapter 5: American Gothic free porn video
Toni Black was standing before the dresser in Marcia’s bedroom, leaning forward and examining her complexion in the mirror. “Am I getting a blemish? Is this a zit?” she yelled, peering closely at her nose.
The stereo was blaring loudly. The bedroom window was wide open. A scented candle was flickering on the dresser alongside an incense stick which was smoking. You almost couldn’t smell the marijuana the two girls had been smoking. Almost.
“What?” said Marcia loudly, over the music.
“I asked if you thought I was breaking out!”
Marcia Blockings reached out and turned down the stereo. “I’m not looking at your zits.”
Toni glanced at Marcia’s reflection. Her friend was laying angled on her bed, totally naked, and it was obvious she was staring at Toni’s backside. A pair of vibrators was laying on the bed, one a large flesh-colored version modeled after an oversized cock, the other a small ‘Pocket Rocket’ type. Toni was standing there in a tiny white thong, with her low-rider blue jeans only pulled up to the top of her thighs and still unzipped and was nude from the waist up. Toni grinned and wiggled her ass. “Slut!”
“Whore!” replied Marcia easily. “Will you stop worrying about your zits. Don’t you know that sex is good for the complexion?”
“I thought it was only for guys,” laughed Toni, turning around and pulling her jeans up higher. “I thought it was if they jerked off their acne would go away.”
“Yeah, that’s the way I hear it. Also, they go bald and grow hair on the palms of their hands. Don’t shake hands with my brothers, you’ll get a rug rash from the fur.”
Toni mimed sticking her fingers down her throat and gagging, then grabbed her V-neck top from the floor. She pulled it on. She never wore a bra, her pert and perky B-cup tits didn’t need the support, and she liked it when people stared at her nipples. Likewise, she made sure she pulled her thong up so that it was visible above her jeans. “I don’t want to think about your brothers. When do they get home?”
Marcia stirred and rolled over, sitting up on the bed. “I think they just came home. Somebody came in downstairs, anyway, and it’s too early for my folks.” Toni turned wildly at this and stared at the door. “Chill. The door is locked and there’s a towel at the bottom. Nobody could see us.” Marcia stood and began picking up her clothes. She dressed and tossed the dildos in her nightstand, rearranging some loose maxi-pads over them. None of her brothers or father would ever touch those!
“So, do you keep your complexion clear with sex?” teased Toni.
“Nothing like a good cum facial to keep the pores clear,” answered Marcia. “Try it now! Jismo! The new and improved blemish remover! Apply it in the morning for an all-day glow and apply it every night to let your skin heal as you sleep!” she said, mimicking a TV ad for blemish remover.
“Gross!” said Toni with a laugh. “When do you get your next treatment?”
“Friday night. Jack Westphal and I are going to the movies. I’ll give him a blowjob afterwards,” Marcia said matter-of-factly.
Toni leaned back against the dresser. She and Marcia had been longtime friends but never could seem to figure her out. “So, what are you? Gay? Straight? Bi?”
Marcia shrugged. “Whatever. Maybe I’m looking for Mister Right. Or Mrs. Right. Or Mrs. Right Fucking Now! Complaining?”
Toni snorted. She knew she was a lesbian, though she didn’t brag it all over the school like some kids did. She enjoyed playing with Marcia, even if there wasn’t a lifelong future in it. She simply couldn’t figure Marcia out at times. “You going to the dance with him?” There was a dance Friday night at the high school.
Marcia nodded. “You?”
Toni shrugged and nodded. “Jake Fleming.”
“You going to suck him off, too?”
Toni shrugged and nodded again. Without coming out of the closet, she needed to occasionally date and be seen with guys. The occasional post-date hummer was fairly harmless, even if she didn’t really like the taste.
“Well, come over beforehand. We can get dressed together and have the boys pick us up here,” commented Marcia.
“It’s a plan,” agreed Toni.
Marcia looked over the bedroom with a critical eye, closing the bedroom window and picking up the towel at the door. She blew out the candle, then opened the door. “Let’s get out of here.”
“My place?” asked Toni.
“Yeah.” They headed down the stairs, passing Marcia’s brothers in the kitchen. “I’m going over to Toni’s. I’ll be back tonight.”
Jeremy shrugged. “You going to be back for dinner?” Marcia snorted derisively. “Hey, I’m just asking what Mom’s going to ask.” Marcia snorted again and the two older girls trooped out.
“Fucking sluts,” muttered Rusty. Jeremy just nodded. He wondered if his parents would even notice.
“Hi guys!” Barbara Blockings said Rusty as she came in the door. She set her briefcase by the buffet in the living room and waved at her youngest son.
Rusty looked up from his Xbox game and glanced at his mother coming in the door, and then said hello. Jeremy simply grunted and nodded; he was laying on the couch listening to his iPod and never opened his eyes or took out the earplugs.
“Marcia home yet?”
It was obvious their mother wanted to talk. Rusty paused his game and looked over at her. “She took off. She’s over at Toni Black’s.”
Jeremy muttered under his breath to Rusty, too low for their mother to overhear, “Licking pussy!”
Rusty started laughing, then began coughing in an attempt to cover up.
“Are you all right, Rusty?” asked Barbara with concern. Rusty started coughing even more at this, causing Jeremy to smile beatifically at his younger brother. Their mother was so clueless!
“Dad called. He’s working late again,” stated Jeremy.
“He called?”
“It’s on the answering machine,” he replied, hooking a thumb over his shoulder towards the kitchen.
“Did he say when he would be home?” Barbara didn’t bother waiting for the answer, but simply went into the kitchen and hit the button on the machine. As always, the sound quality was poor, but it was clear that her husband Jerry wouldn’t be home until after nine, that he had some sort of business dinner.
“Anybody have a preference for dinner?” she asked.
Neither of her sons answered. They were both back to their original pursuits and they ignored her.
Mary Beth O’Connor stared down disdainfully at the man kneeling on the carpet before her. The wretch was almost naked, wearing a heavy black leather collar, wide black leather wrist cuffs joined behind his back, and a black leather genital constraint. She had just ordered him to crawl across the rough sisal fiber carpet towards her, and now he knelt anxiously awaiting her orders. In her left hand she held the black leather leash that attached to his collar; in her right hand she held a long black leather riding crop.
For what seemed like the millionth time in her life, she wondered how she had ever gotten to this place in her life. How in the world did a nice Boston Irish Catholic school girl, an honors graduate of St. Ignatius High School, end up in Central Florida as ‘Mistress Domina’, a premier leather dominatrix. Was it the nuns who had spanked her one time too many, driving her to revel in being the punisher, not the punishee? Or was it the priest who had taken her into his office for counseling and had taken her innocence when she was fourteen? And what did it really matter anymore? She hadn’t been to Mass in the fifteen years since she had graduated.
“Come, worm, follow me!” she demanded, moving away from the kneeling client. She loosened her grip on the leash, letting several feet slip through her fingers, as she walked across the carpet to the reclining couch. Her client, an insurance salesman named Jerry Blockings, watched her closely but mutely as she sauntered away. His eyes tracked her beautiful form. She was a tall woman, slim and blonde, in the regalia of a hardcore dom, black leather strapless corset with open bra cups pushing her tits up and out, thigh high lace up spike heel boots in black leather, shoulder length black leather opera gloves, even the black choker. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a severe bun.
“I ordered you to follow!” she demanded, flicking her riding crop at him. It caught him on the shoulder, stinging him, but otherwise not leaving a mark. Mistress Domina was very careful about that sort of thing; she never raised a welt, but within two days her charges often had bruising.
Nadene
- 25.07.2021
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