1. The Devil's Pact Ghost of Paris Chapter 8: Public Transportation


    Date: 5/29/2017, Categories: Fantasy, Anal, BDSM, Cuckold, Exhibitionism, Straight Sex, Mind Control, Voyeur, Author: mypenname3000, Source: sexstories.com

    recorder. Damn, was there nothing these new-fangled smart phones couldn't do? “You huntin' me, sweetness?” I asked her, pressing my hard rod against her fine ass. “I am,” she answered. “I figured if I trolled around dressed like a streetwalker, I'd attract your attention.” “Umm, you definitely attracted my attention,” I growled, humping her ass. “You have my undivided attention.” “I can tell,” the ghost hunter laughed in a rich, vibrant timbre. “I can feel how intense your stare is.” I reached around her, groping a firm melon through the t-shirt; she wore no bra. She sighed as I kneaded her flesh, her nipple hardening beneath my hand. She adjusted her phone; over her shoulder I could see the image of her tit getting squeezed by my invisible hand on the screen. The blouse indented, squeezing between my fingers as I pressed into her pliant boob. “As you can see, the ghost is manipulating my breast,” she narrated. “I have never encountered an entity that could manifest so corporeal before. You can see the separate indentation of his fingers. And...umm...you can see my blouse rubbing across my...ohh...nipple as the ghost pinches and plays with it.” “You know I'm gonna fuck you, sweetness,” I whispered. “My pecker's aching to feel your cooch's embrace.” She laughed, “A small price to pay to capture the supernatural on film.” “So you're a real whore for your work?” “That's one way to put it.” “How'd you put it then, sweetness.” “I'm dedicated.” “So am I,” I purred. “Dedicated to ...
    fuckin' purtee, young thangs.” She laughed, tossing back her fiery-red hair. I pushed the curtain of red to the side, exposing her pale neck. I wanted to leave my mark, sucking at her neck as my pecker slipped between her legs. She scooted back, leaning her ass—plump, full, magnificent—into my groin. I let my cock side up her thigh, reaching towards the heat that I ached to bury into. My tip brushed her groin; she wore no panties and I felt no fur. I quested for her hole, her shaved pussy lips moistening my pecker. “Hot damn if you ain't ready to fuck!” I hollered. A few of the bus riders—besides the bum, there were a pair of grungy teenagers, an old woman, and a fat man with a ruddy face—were staring at her. “Sorry, my boyfriend left me a dirty message,” she quickly covered. Chuckling, I continued rubbing my pecker through her hot and silky cooch, trying to find her hole. A soft, mewling sigh escaped her lips, her hips wriggling. The tip of my pecker finally found her tunnel, slipping in; her hand tightened on the pole as the other held her phone beneath her skirt, immortalizing my invisible cock pushing into her wonderfully wet, wonderfully tight depths. The aching pain in my pecker vanished; her delicious flesh eased my torment, washing it away with her juicy warmth. I drew back, slammed in again. So goddamn wonderful! “The Ghost has inserted some sort of appendage into my vagina,” Carla narrated softly, still holding her phone between her thighs as I slowly fucked her. ...
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