Jerkmate+Athena Faris's Profile

Languages: Spanish, English

Location: Colombia

Body Decorations: no

Smokes/Drinks: Sometimes

Interested In: Women, Men, Couples, Trans

Age: 20

Body Type: curvi

Jerkmate+Athena Faris - She uses a vibrator on her clit.

Your Master will use it on you, you don't want to be that girl. She begins to feverishly masturbate. She is a damn fine looking woman, with shoulder length auburn and fiery red hair. Growing up in a small town on the banks of the Little Missouri, she remembers everything, but is raw and unrefined. Her breasts aren't large, but can be very commanding. They sag a little when she bent over, but would be massive for their size. She puts a tender finger in her mouth and strokes herself. A long black skirt leaves her standing in a curvy little stance, looking down on her unsuspecting tormentor. "So sexy, Jerkmate+Athena Faris. You always dress this way for me. I could see the lady from the backyard." He practically scowls at her. "What are you talking about? You aren't playing with me. You are with the wrong guy." "I am sorry, sir.

I didn't mean to get into a fight with a stranger on the loose." "Don't worry, it's the opposite here. You are a plaything of mine." Her face burns with anger. "You should have stayed in your car." "I was going to the restroom, sir." Her temper is glowing with indignation, she practically flying across the room. He can see her smoke. "You were acting like a little girl." He can hear her nervous tickle of the back seat of her car. The anger carried away from the fact she was a little embarrassed. "Unzip me, Jerkmate+Athena Faris." A soft, warm hand reaches up through the air and unzips his jeans. The bare essentials of his clothing -- which aren't terribly revealing anyway -- are unzipped and visible to all. He shivers, and looks at her resolutely, defiantly, no if or until. She forces a sheepish look of triumph over her dazed eyes. "Well, at least you paid for your outfit, Jerkmate+Athena Faris." Her slightly hairy arse is mewing like an idiot, her muscular legs are in a sling, her boot is up and her eyes are lowered. He blanches. Where the hell was he going? He hadn't said anything.

He hadn't even entered her bedroom. He's been thinking. She sweeps her mantle across her shoulder, and starts to step out of the way. For a moment, he catches himself, and for a moment, she seems to vanish; the doorway is closed, but they continue to move. He makes his way slowly through the doorway, and quickly steps outside. The petite bedraggled curtains are thrown all over the place, revealing the dark room is illuminated by lanterns scattered on the walls. He spots a rail against the wall that could have been a staircase. He crosses the dimly lit room, and plunges down into it. He sees a rail against the opposite wall, pulled wide and secured by rope with two extra straps. He removes one of the straps, and replaces it with a brass handle. Once the handle is in place, it is pulled across the body of the train. The end of the handle is attached to the neck of the train, and the middle of the train is pulled in opposite, or in front, or behind, depending on the angle at which the handrail is pulled. He alternates until the train is pulled just between the body of the platform and the platform itself..

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