Sweater
by Peter Loaf


Harnessed and sweatered, wool over eyes
Shuffle behind Him, gag garbled cries
Leg spreader trapping
My ankles strapping
My pussy dripping, his cock my prize

My back Heís pressing, against a tree
My leash heís wrapping, chuckles with glee
Helpless immobile
Thereís nothing noble
Pussy drip dipping, sniffing my brie

Struggle but willing, faking protests
Harnessed and tethered, readiness test
The collar folding
His mountain holding
Mountain Man Service, best in the West

Iíve heard the bragging, his clientele
Booking vacation, at bondage hell
My thighs caressing
His thumbs are pressing
Prying me open, clapper-less bell

Tickle my clitty, thumb in my rear
My body needing, making it clear
The sweater warming
Libido storming
His pony penis, pointing and near

A rope Heís tying, the bar between
My feet heís lifting, a throne-less Queen
Hours of licking
Screaming and kicking
Creaming and screaming, heard he was mean

Mountain Man standing, pecker swollen
My money earning, fucking colon
Stand and deliver
Gushing my river
Pussy juice flowing, belfry tolliní

Hot high and needy, condom switching
High hot and ready, pussy itching
The new one spiky
Gosh darn and crikey
My bottom gripping, His cock twitching

Ripsaw sensation, gripping his cock
His phallus filling, hard as a rock
Screaming in passion
My chips Iím cashiní
Mountain Man Service, the ticking clock

Sweater

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