1. The Incubus' Wife: A Party Gone Wild


    Date: 6/4/2015, Categories: Dark Fantasy, Anal, Authoritarian, BDSM, Wife, Young, Author: Liv Beornwulf, Rating: 61.5, Source: sexstories.com

    thoughts of my own. When I wheel around, I find that Mason has completed up dressing. His father is toasting his fifty-eight birthday tonight at some hotel here in town, and we have a duty to make merry with him close to his cheery and loving side. “We can go now, Emma. Are you okay anyway?” Mason asks me in a composed and impassive tone of voice. I am not all that good really. Last night, just after we had made love and he had immediately sunk his way into sleep, I had not actually slumbered until about four this morning. Why, you might be imagining? I was still bothered about what he had mentioned the preceding night. That if we should have our first baby, they were going to snatch it away from us and cook and grill it alive while we watched. “I am okay, Mason,” I tell him a lie and hastily go into a faked-up mood of gladness—trusting that this will be enough to soothe and still any queries that he might have in his mind concerning my not-long-past unease. After he has stretched his hand towards me, I step towards him submissively and let him take and keep my hand in his. With this carried through, we both march our way out, talking about occasional stuff joyfully and freely. Mason is like my very own best man friend on the other hand. With him, I every time feel that I can disclose anything bothering me without ever agonizing about how he is going to respond to that. I love him and I also pin my faith on him like I do to no one else. Outside, the air is a bit cold and ...
    bitter. This is what I specifically am wearing tonight: A lengthy, divine-looking dark dress with slits that reach as far as my mid thighs on both differing sides of my legs. As I am walking, the split dress hops and sways liberally, my thighs getting displayed to simple view every once little in a while. The shoes that I am clothing on my feet are mid-heeled with diamond lacings and garnishing on it. My long, smooth light brown hair is graced and appareled with glitters and a few sparkly beads and the like. I look like an angel that Mason has sneaked away with from heaven. He is enchanting and bewitching my eyes in basic black. From his leather shoes up to his shirt that is shroud with his jacket, on to his tie and even his disguised underwear—he is completely and totally clad in sheer, artless-looking black. I can’t believe that a lavish six-doored Limousine is what shall be taking us to the hotel. The minute I see it parked in front of our house, my breath and ability to reason runs away from me. The chauffeur is waiting for us to turn up in the biting air, and as we come to near to finally meet him, he greets the two of us, starting with me and ending with Mason, and he furthermore bows his head down to us in veneration before he proceeds on to open the door so that we can watchfully mount our way inside. I am particularly heedful with my dress as I scale into the high-priced car. I don’t want to have it get stuck and ripped up on anything. Such kind of a situation has ...
«12345»