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Cuckold themes. BDSM scene.
Bo twisted and turned mid air in the giant spider web. She was completely naked (again!) as cameras rolled from every angle.
Thick strands of web criss crossed her hug tits, pushing them tightly together and squeezing them. Other strands wrapped around her wrists, and ankles, and legs. Her legs were pulled apart into a very vulnerable position. Her smooth pussy only barely obscured by a piece of loose web strategically placed by the effects crew. Slight breezes often moved it enough to expose her cunt to the spider, and the camera. That was strategic too.
The mechanical spider, nearly the size of a horse, was right beside her, her torn clothes (what little she ever wore) hanging in scraps from its deadly mandibles.
She screamed. It was a good one to. That spider was truly terrifying for her. Her tits shook in their faux silk confines as the tan sex goddess explored her upper octave range. Her fit legs tried to kick against the secure web bindings.
Then the spider was lifted away from her, and tossed aside. It flew over the steep crest beside the web and down into a ravine. It was Tarzan!
“Tarzan! Oh thank God! That spider was going to eat me!” Bo’s joy was semi genuine. She hated spiders, and even that mechanical one gave her tremors of terror in her heart. Now it was gone!
The camera caught an extended shot of Bo in the web expressing her thanks. For seemingly no reason, she moved her shoulders as she spoke, sending her tits into a wiggle. She even threw her blonde hair back over her shoulder. Her make up was perfect. To cap the scene, she even moved first one, then the other spread eagled leg seductively in her bindings.
“Tarzan here!” He beat a muscled arm against his muscled chest.
He moved to her and planted a big wet kiss forcibly onto her mouth. A camera close up indicating they were aggressively tongue dueling.
Camera pan out.
Tarzan had one strong hand on a tit, and the other on her opposite nude hip. And he started rubbing.
He was being an asshole again! Right on camera, right in front of her husband!
“Please Tarzan, can you get me free?” Bo tried to keep from blowing up in anger and stayed in character. Jon, the director, had earlier expressed worry that they were ‘running out of daylight’. She was a professional. Not like douche bag here, who thought having a big cock was a free pass through life.
“Yes, me make you free!” Tarzan grunted.
The webbing, artificially manufactured of course. Was tough to break. Tarzan’s hands went to her breasts. By yanking on the plastic web ropes, he rubbed the tough plastic ropes into her deeply tanned tits. The web pressed in, bulging her tit flesh around them. Then he pulled the web upward and downward, cheese grating her nipples.
“I don’t (painful gasp) think that (ouch!) is working, Tarzan!” The pain really was significant. Her nipples betrayed her and erected fully. When the plastic web yanked back and forth over them, the nipples actually bounced and sprang in response to the sadistic grating they were getting. Fierce red mark lines on her plump round titties showed where Tarzan had pulled and sawed the webs laterally across her bosom.
Bo’s face was scrunched in pain. She tried to knee Tarzan in the balls, but her legs were securely, tightly bound. The effort did writhe her legs a little (camera pan out and focus on legs, until she realized the futility.)
“Tarzan, this is hurting me!” Not really pleading, but unveiled fury was in her voice. Her eyes were daggers at her ‘rescuer’.
“Tarzan try harder, pretty girl!” Uh oh.
Somehow, he looped a plastic web around her left tit. It noosed her breast right up against the base of the chest. The tit flesh bulged out, even the nipple seemed to inflate further and double it’s protrusion.
“Aaaghhh, this isn’t working!”
Then the right mammary. Again right to the base, squeezing the tit brutally outwards. What’s worse, by shortening the rope by looping it, Bo was now hanging suspended by her tits! Her full body weight, more than a hundred pounds! Her tits almost immediately flushed red.
The pain caused her legs to kick. This caused her body to rock side to side, pulling and yanking on her tits. Would they pull right off? Leave Bo with a flat chest?
Tarzan grabbed a web that was around her legs, brought up it’s end, and tied it around her nipple! Synched it so tight, his muscled arm flexing and straining. Her nipple was ready to burst! As her tits were rapidly turning from red to purple, her nipple was shading even darker. Every time her leg kicked (and she could not control her legs at this point) the noose around her nipple tightened. The nipple lasso began the process of yanking her nipple right off the end of her tit.
He repeated the process with the other nipple. I mean, leaving her with one nipple would be weird.
As Bo writhed in agony. The only question is what would yank free first, one of her tits, or one of her nipples?
Tarzan bahis firmaları paused in his efforts. This was all off script. Improv you might say. The cameras rolled on. The director, the husband of this hot babe, almost drooling over his cinematography. No one was stopping him.
More play time.
He grabbed a web vine from between her legs. This exposed her smooth pussy to the camera. He yanked up hard, driving the plastic rope up into her naked crotch. She screamed.
Like a exercise machine at the gym, he brutally yanked the rope up between her legs over and over, so fast it was almost a blur. Most times, the rope worked itself inside her cunt lips, and into her pussy. The deep red marks on her pussy multiplied. And for every brutal red burn across the outside of her pussy, there were certainly five more within her. The rope was suddenly coated in pussy lubricant. Thick goops of girl juice, ran along the length of the rope, and dripped to the ground.
He paused, but only to noose the rope around her fiercely erect and protruding clit. He pulled, hard. The clit pulled her midsection forward from the web.
Her screams drowned out the sounds of Tarzan’s exertions. He pulled again, as hard as he could, and tied off the clit noose so that Bo was suspended upward by her huge, continually darkening breasts. And suspended forwards by her clit being pulled out!
Again he paused. How much can husband director take? No one was stepping in to stop him. The camera’s rolled.
Really, only one move left.
Tarzan reached up. I mentioned how tall he was, right? He looped down a plastic rope from above Bo. She was watching him as she screamed in tortured pain, but could not speak.
He looped the web around her neck. Her eyes widened further. Then he pulled. The web circled up somewhere behind Bo. It tightened around her throat. Then constricted visibly. Her screaming choked off. She was hanging by the neck. The neck rope was pulling her backwards, the tit ropes were pulling upwards, and her clit rope was pulling forwards.
So that when her body jerked and convulsed, she shook in mid air, pulled in all directions.
Tarzan lustily ran his hands over her purple tits, across her firm tight belly, along her sexy legs.
A minute without air. Bo’s face was reddening.
A second minute without air, her eyes fluttered.
A third minute without air, her eyes rolled up in their sockets, showing the whites.
How long would director husband allow this? Tarzan didn’t care, that was not his decision. He continued to enjoy rubbing his hands over her body.
A fourth, fifth minute. Her struggles lessened to almost nothing. The director was going to do it! He was going to film to the end! Wife snuff! I guess he could claim it was an ‘accident’, even collect insurance from her.
Bo was motionless. She still swayed slightly in the breeze. The camera was zooming in, so Tarzan stepped aside. Jon slowly ran the close up shot from her feet, up along her incredible body, to her face with those eyes that just showed the whites.
Camera again to the big tits. Camera again to the pussy. It was still leaking pussy juice! Then back to the head and expressionless face.
Jon raised his arm, preparing to yell ‘cut’.
Snap! Crack! Crash!
The tree that the webbing had been tied to broke, fell to the ground.
Bo’s motionless body lay sprawled on the ground.
Bo was breathing!
The camp was darkening. A large fire in the center. A fire big enough, one hoped, to dissuade African predators.
“I still cannot believe you let him do all that to me!” Bo was outraged.
“Honey…” Jon tried to say.
“Don’t honey me! Nothing like any of that was in the script!”
“It was a unexpected. But it was cinematographic inspiration. The film is captivating! Legendary even!”
“I nearly died! The crew says you didn’t stop, even long after I passed out!”
“Everything was safe dear. Billy and Dingo are trained first aiders. I knew you would be ok.” Jon had named two of the twelve man film crew.
“Really?” Spoken a little easier. Jon loved her right?
“Yes dear.” He said, like silk. Like a Hollywood salesman pitching a project to financiers.
Bo reached into his lap. His erection was rock solid. Bo’s thin linen wrap around her otherwise nude body was maddeningly arousing.
“You haven’t cum…in over two months.” Bo said gently.
Jon gasped. The pleasure of her touch! His balls were so full, the pressure within them constant.
“Let me empty this for you.” Now her voice was silk.
“There is still so much to shoot! The native tribe is going to capture you! The chief is going to…well you read the script. There’s a dozen more scenes with Tarzan. If I cum, I will lose my passion! There is only one chance to shoot this movie!”
“What about me baby? My pussy leaks juice almost constantly. I want sex, husband. Remember how kaçak iddaa much younger I am. My pussy is starving.”
“Oh Really!?!” Tarzan walked into the conversation.
Bo blushed crimson. In embarrassment and anger.
“You! I want to cut your cock off, asshole!!”
“Wait! Hold it!” Jon stood up.
The two main stars of this production, who were supposed to fall in love on screen, were instead filled with revulsion (in her case) and sneering ambivalence (in his case). And it showed on film. As plain as day.
Bo and Tarzan both looked at the director. It was unlike him to be so assertive.
The film would fail, unless these two fell in love on screen. And neither of them could ‘act’ their way through that.
“Ok, this is how we are going to do it.” Jon began. “From tonight onwards, the two of you are going to sleep together.”
“What” from Bo.
“Alright!” from Tarzan.
“Husband! In this heat, everyone sleeps nude!”
“Yes I know. Dear wife.”
“I’m to lay beside…HIM, the both of us naked?”
“Yes, you are.” Jon explained. “Or all of this work we have put in, could be for nothing.”
“You mean…’sleep with her?'” Tarzan made a motion with his fist, pushing it forwards repeatedly. A crude depiction of intercourse.
“Well, in the film, it is presumed that Bo and Tarzan become intimate. I want that to be evident in your characters when you both are in a scene together.”
“So…to be clear. You are telling me to fuck your wife?”
“I am telling the both of you to become intimate. Spending some alone time, at your own discretion, I hope will achieve this.”
Bo’s mouth was still hanging open.
“What you say baby? I’ll meet you in your tent in about an hour!” Tarzan sneered.
The night was full on. The sky black put filled with stars. Since day one, it was decided Bo’s tent would be nearest the fire, with everyone else’s forming a protective ring around. Call it chauvinistic. But it was Jon’s insistence. His deep love showing in quirky ways again.
It was discovered that the linen tents were opaque under daylight. But when illuminated from the side from firelight, they were almost perfectly transparent. From the very first night, Bo’s silhouette was watched applying lotion to herself. Everyone else knew this, but to spare Bo’s feelings, it wasn’t mentioned.
Jon, Bo, and Tarzan were standing before Bo’s tent now.
“There’s not going to be much room in there.” Bo said.
“I think I’ll undress out here!” Tarzan was naked in a few moments. His phallus hanging halfway down to his knee.
Bo and Jon looked at that dick, then one another. Tarzan could tell Bo was going to say something smart about the size of his meat.
“Hey. I’ve got a big dick. Give me a break, what am I supposed to do?” Tarzan seemed a little bit apologetic even. Putting on a nice face?
“Ok. It’s not your fault that it’s so big.” Bo allowed. A step towards forgiveness?
“I really enjoyed when you sucked it the other day.” Tarzan said. “You were very skillful and sexy.” Was the condescension absent? A genuine compliment?
Bo wondered a moment on what to say. Settled for a ‘thank you’.
To avoid elbowing each other inside the tent, Bo dropped her linen wrap to the ground and stood naked before Tarzan.
“You know, you really are amazingly beautiful.” Was Tarzan being nice, or did he have some acting skill after all?
“You are very handsome too.” Bo put her hand on his strong abdominal muscles. In the firelight, the glint of moisture could be seen between her legs.
“Is it going to be uncomfortable for you, sharing a tent with me?” He asked.
“I’m not sure.” Bo murmured.
“Maybe this will help.” Tarzan stooped down and kissed her on the lips.
Jon opened his mouth to say something, but then Tarzan wrapped his powerful arms around his wife’s back, pulling her into a tight embrace. The kiss continued.
Jon’s turgid, but tiny, husband cock throbbed. Fully erect. Pre cum leaking. He opened his mouth to speak again.
But then Bo wrapped her arms around Tarzan. So thickly muscled was his upper body, that her hands didn’t even meet, she could not encircle his chest and shoulders. The kiss continued. They were breathing through their noses. Their lips mashed together, working passionately.
Dear God, Jon wanted Bo then. He wanted her in his tent, doing wifely things to him, until his over two months of cum geysered out. His balls had stopped growing / stretching a couple weeks ago, and the internal pressure was building exponentially within his sacs.
The kiss broke. They still held each other. Her staring nearly straight upward into his eyes, he staring down into hers. Their nude bodies pressed together tight. Seemingly inseparable.
Then they did separate. Tarzan moved into the tent. Bo turned to follow him.
“Bo please, can I see you for a few minutes, real quick!” Jon asked.
Bo looked at him. Looked at the kaçak bahis small, but rigid erection in his shorts. The expanding wet spot of his leaking pre cum. Then she turned her back on her husband and entered the tent, without a word.
Over the next half hour, Jon watched their firelight silhouettes playfully touch and tease each other. There was frequent kissing. They laughed easily together.
There were whispers back and forth.
Jon realized two things. Bo did not know just how transparent her tent became at night, and that Tarzan did. The beast of a man often seemed to look outward, at about where he imagined Jon to be standing, before his shadow did something naughty like lick her tits or run a hand between her sexy legs.
“Do you have a condom?” Bo’s husky whisper carried to Jon’s ear.
“How in the hell am I going to have a condom in the middle of Africa, a month into a jungle safari?”
“Well, I don’t have my birth control either. We need to behave accordingly.”
This seemed to be insolence from Bo, and Tarzan roughly pushed her shoulders to the Earth. He positioned himself above her. His man spear solid as steel.
“Tarzan…” Bo started a sentence with an admonishing tone, but Jon could see her widen her shadow legs farther apart. Her body was welcoming her lover. Whatever Bo was getting ready to say ended with a gasp as he drove his impossibly long tool straight into her cunt.
It didn’t make it all the way in. With four inches to go, Bo squealed and shimmied backward from him.
He grabbed her hips, dragged her back forwards. And drove in again. At four inches remaining she squealed again, but he held her hips so she couldn’t move.
“It’s too big!” Pain, fear, but also a lust Jon never thought she possessed dripped from those three words.
Tarzan worked his cock into Jon’s wife. Seemingly in cadence with the super human thrusts into his betrothed, Jon’s weenie twitched and drooled in his shorts. The pressure on his balls had been uncomfortable for a few weeks. Now darts of pain actually resonated through his testicles. Were Jon’s balls stretched to the limit?
Wet sloshing now sound tracked Tarzan’s thrusts. Jon’s wife had coated the King of the Jungle’s scepter with her cunt juices. Bo was moaning. Her legs kicked with each stroke into her core. The mass of Tarzan’s cock within her bulged her trim belly from the inside. The track of its progress deeper and deeper shown clearly to any observers.
The bulge reached Bo’s navel. She arced her back and neck, kicking her legs with greater desperation. She moaned, gasped, her breaths urgent. Still a great part of the meat missile had not found it’s way inside her.
Tarzan tried a new tact. He swiveled his hips, which rotated his flesh bat within Bo. Sometimes the bulge disappeared, then the rotation would cause the bulge to push out grotesquely from her belly. The ridges on the massive bulbous head shown in relief. Tarzan worked his hips in a circle, stirring up the girl’s insides.
“Are those tears of joy?” He asked her. Jon could see his wife writhing, kicking, jerking and convulsing from the sex she was getting. Tears were flowing from her eyes too? This could not be seen from outside the tent.
Bo grimaced her reply. “It hurts, a lot. Don’t stop!”
Bo climaxed. Her scream of orgasm echoed through the jungle. Her cunny was splorting her girl cum audibly. Jon could actually hear the viscous goo shlorshing out from the tightly packed pussy and splashing onto the ground.
The sounds of the jungle, far off birds, insects, the background static of deep Africa went silent.
Bo’s orgasmic screams lasted more than three minutes. Her body thrashing the entire duration.
Tarzan grabbed her tits, and pushed deeper! The bulge within her now beyond her navel and nearly to the bottom of her rib cage! Bo lovingly placed her hand on the tummy bulge, massaging her lover’s phallus that was inside her.
After the bulge had dived under her rib cage, deep in the center of her body, Tarzan’s pelvis began to smack into Bo’s pelvis. He fucked harder and harder, like a brutal animal rutting.
Bo screamed another orgasm. Two minutes into her screams and body spasms, with no indication she would (or could) stop cumming, Tarzan grunted beastily. He grunted out his ejaculations like a true male master.
The smashing of their flesh together was liquid, juice and cum churning. They would go on screaming and grunting forever, Jon thought. But then Tarzan roughly grabbed Bo’s neck in his hand and pulled her into a brutal kiss.
They continued thrusting and fucking for minutes, locked at the lips. Screams and grunts muffled by each other’s mouth.
Jon lay in his tent. The sounds of the jungle had returned. Only a dozen or so feet away his wife slept soundly, wrapped in Tarzan’s arms.
Not only did Jon’s jammed full balls ache. His little husband weenie was hurting from his forceful erection that had lasted hours.
Finally, finally, his mind collapsed into exhausted sleep. Even through his exhaustion, still his sleep was fitful, the denial of his manhood affecting him to his soul.
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