Tortured Husband: Taboo Erotica (eBook, ePUB)
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Warning: This is a VERY taboo, vintage, hard-boiled full length (100+ Pages), post-censorship erotic novel. This is bad stuff. Both bad meaning bad and bad meaning *good*. The story is so crazy, we can't even give a proper description.******"I see this working class bitch has no idea about to clean rugs," she said, holding her hands against her curvy hips and hugging them in close. "Why don't you learn to clean things properly, Manon? Ah, but then, I guess you were born in a barn and there isn't much to clean up when you live in a manure pile, is there?" Manon blushed hard and the thick, prob...
Warning: This is a VERY taboo, vintage, hard-boiled full length (100+ Pages), post-censorship erotic novel. This is bad stuff. Both bad meaning bad and bad meaning *good*. The story is so crazy, we can't even give a proper description.
******
"I see this working class bitch has no idea about to clean rugs," she said, holding her hands against her curvy hips and hugging them in close. "Why don't you learn to clean things properly, Manon? Ah, but then, I guess you were born in a barn and there isn't much to clean up when you live in a manure pile, is there?"
Manon blushed hard and the thick, probing hard on pushed up even harder against the tight parted curtain of silken panties. She could feel it tickle, torture, garrote, the hilt of the hard, ogling cock. That cock that was so anxious to get out and parade around in front of everyone. That cock that was now causing Manon so much shame. So much hot, raging shame.
The doorbell sounded again, ding donging its little welcome notes inside the group of party goers.
"Get that and get back here," Tyne said, pointing her long red fingernail directly at the front door. "Step on it."
Manon rushed to the door, not even taking the time to watch how she was walking; and her skirt was flying up in back. She no longer cared. They'd all had a pretty good look at her front, hadn't they? What difference did it make now?
"Don't know who the hell that is, anyway ... " she said, snarling her upper lip and cursing beneath her breath.
Manon opened the door and held stood staring out into the darkness. Under the porch light stood a tall, handsome erect man. She had never seen him before. He was new. A stranger, possibly someone to be afraid of? Someone who threatened the intimacy of the little group assembled here? Whoever he was, it was hard not to notice him.
He was over six feet tall and well-muscled. Auburn hair, with a touch of grey at the temples.Sun-tanned, hardy, rugged looking. Handsome enough to be a male model, but a touch too he-man looking to stand around in blue men's briefs or tight jeans long enough for the photographers to adjust the lights. He was obviously a man of action, a man on the move. It crossed Manon's mind that he might be an athlete. Like some people she knew
******
"I see this working class bitch has no idea about to clean rugs," she said, holding her hands against her curvy hips and hugging them in close. "Why don't you learn to clean things properly, Manon? Ah, but then, I guess you were born in a barn and there isn't much to clean up when you live in a manure pile, is there?"
Manon blushed hard and the thick, probing hard on pushed up even harder against the tight parted curtain of silken panties. She could feel it tickle, torture, garrote, the hilt of the hard, ogling cock. That cock that was so anxious to get out and parade around in front of everyone. That cock that was now causing Manon so much shame. So much hot, raging shame.
The doorbell sounded again, ding donging its little welcome notes inside the group of party goers.
"Get that and get back here," Tyne said, pointing her long red fingernail directly at the front door. "Step on it."
Manon rushed to the door, not even taking the time to watch how she was walking; and her skirt was flying up in back. She no longer cared. They'd all had a pretty good look at her front, hadn't they? What difference did it make now?
"Don't know who the hell that is, anyway ... " she said, snarling her upper lip and cursing beneath her breath.
Manon opened the door and held stood staring out into the darkness. Under the porch light stood a tall, handsome erect man. She had never seen him before. He was new. A stranger, possibly someone to be afraid of? Someone who threatened the intimacy of the little group assembled here? Whoever he was, it was hard not to notice him.
He was over six feet tall and well-muscled. Auburn hair, with a touch of grey at the temples.Sun-tanned, hardy, rugged looking. Handsome enough to be a male model, but a touch too he-man looking to stand around in blue men's briefs or tight jeans long enough for the photographers to adjust the lights. He was obviously a man of action, a man on the move. It crossed Manon's mind that he might be an athlete. Like some people she knew
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