Foamy description - in all senses, which only tells readers, and especially readers, their perverted imagination.

The best April Fool's joke, which could only have occurred to the mean communal utilities: turn off the hot water without any warning. Fortunately, Jenny in her apartment has a gas water heater, which at any time of the day or night is at the service of the hostess. And the owner herself, in turn, to mine.

“Oh, Sir, maybe the maid can help you?”

And what is the first desire of a person - well, even a superman, who has just made a tremendous journey through space, time and seven layers of reality?

“Well, of course, honey.” Prepare me for a start a spacious bath, with foam! And hot, but not too much.

And with spite add:

- Not all of you alone in the bath, bask.

I know very well what water procedures she indulges in the gates of her pleasure, while her man is busy with other things ... Just have time to change your heads.

- Yes, Master! - responds with a mischievous smile, this young hunch. Well, not otherwise some kind of a trick came up.

And as the water looked. The same, with foam:

- By the way, if not one, then with whom I now have to bask in it?

“Hamish girl,” I explode, mock and theatrical, with the intonation of the first tragedian in Uryupa drama.

- Prepare me a bath, unhappy, me! I will bask in it. And the maid is to please me. And to fulfill any whim, learned?

No sooner said than done. How much would Jenny mumble along their eternal "Forgive me lord«,»I will do everything as you say"And even, with timid hope,"Will they punish me ?!“But the luxurious corner bath of a gentle turquoise color, almost as large as the pool, already boils and foams with might and main, tickling my nostrils with taiga-coniferous aroma. Fir, it seems. Or cedar? With each breath, the body is filled with freshness ... And with desire.

My young banshchik is also sustained in the April color scheme: a short green robe immediately flies to the tiled floor, and the bikini of exquisite shade of mint hiding under it just asks to be crumpled, since it does not hide anything. Especially when the very first drops of water make the fabric completely transparent, exposing the full fresh cones of girl's breasts and a small crevice between the plump and shamelessly shaved bald sponges down there.

My slim fingers Jenny playfully glide over a tired male body, helping to get rid of completely unnecessary now shirts and jeans. Already bright red thongs fly to the floor, the first blossoming poppy on this green lawn. And the foamy sea is calling and beckoning ...

A moment - and I plunge into it to the bottom, anticipating the coming penetration into other depths, hot and close. "But, as the Marquis de Sade Zaher-Masoch said, have patience, my friend."

“Now bring me a glass of icy champagne for goodness!”

Is it necessary for a tired man to be happy? Cool and intoxicating moisture bubbles inside - in the glass, whether in the mouth, - and the hot foam bubbles caress outside, tickling bare, wet skin. But to the exacting gourmet in my face ... Or even not in the face, but somewhere noticeably lower - he wants more. And now from the depths of the ocean floor sprouts powerful and strong coral, so conveniently lying in the palm. Slightly curved, knotty and utterly alive. How delightfully it shudders from your touch - cautious, sharp, a little scratching ... And when the second hand gropes for rounded large pebbles at the base of this coral trunk and starts sorting through these pellets ... sensually, gently, leisurely ...

There is already my coral soars to the stars, all in a shiny and sticky film at first. But it cost him to break through the covers of the water surface in an unstoppable rush, depriving that primitive innocence - and now the lumpy head reveals itself in all its glory, covered with a snow-white foam cap. Like a lighthouse in the Norwegian fjords, powdered with fresh fluffy snow, from under which still breaks that dazzling bright red light that irrepressibly draws to itself equally as coastal midges, and slender caravels, yearned for long swimming.

Baby Jenny can not hold back admiration, lifting and pulling the powerful trembling trunk with her sensual fingers higher and higher. Admiring foamed surroundings and growth. Oh, how she likes this growing hardness ...

“Sir, how wonderful you are!”

But Mr. so far unhappy:

- More detail, dear, more detail! Don't skimp on descriptions while I enjoy a frothy drink ...

Jane, however, is a talented student and also knows how to play with words. A playful tongue takes her somewhere completely wrong: “pop - more fragile, foamy drink from the word penis. And sensual descriptions - with emphasis on the first and. " Oh, this golden rain, my little slut loves so much to expose herself under his jet! And in sweet anticipation, he already forgets the rules of decency, allowing the most intimate words to break out of the heart:

- Yes, I love its glossiness! His hunting head, which can give such unforgettable minutes!

When Jenny goes to the taboo obscene vocabulary ... (He starts foul language, I explain it specifically for philologists) - So, from now on, four will not stop her either. But the Master is the master, in order to take his frisky filly by the bridles and slightly hold her pace:

- A little later, you are my lustful babe! In the meantime, blow off all the foam from the head and enjoy my dick at a glance. Aesthetic feelings, damn it, develop. Although you can lick, I allow.

And to the totally insolently maidservant, only give free rein! Jane is delighted with the sweet knob and constantly lick it now, moaning and playfully blowing off the foam. Sensibly smacking, hooking the tongue, drawing eights on the trunk and on the head, carefully touching the cleft ...

I condescendingly draw you a glass, and you take a sip of champagne to wash down this amazing taste.

- Now go on ... Although perhaps not!

Does your master have the right to change his mind? It is, of course, the fact he and the Lord. And he has the right, and baby Jenny at the same time. And then in two and three, it will not be the case. And I get up to my full height, covered in foam:

- Now let's suck my dick with taste. With feeling, with sense, with arrangement, as the poet bequeathed! Who here boasted of his inimitable blowjob?

- Oh yeah! - and the girl enthusiastically wraps my hips with her hands, putting her palms on her buttocks. Attracts to itself, catches the mouth of the master's penis, even a moment ago such a whole of himself is foamy - and completely absorbs into itself. In the enjoyment of mumbling and rolling his eyes, and fingers gently so passing through the testicles.

However, the fingers of my handmaid, which are slippery with soap suds, can be applied and more interesting.

“Put them in your anus to your master, dear!” Carefully, but with taste. First one, then two ...

And Jenny obediently delves into my sensitive depth, the benefit is not the first time. It is not necessary for a man to be blue in order to receive this kind of passive pleasure. As Grandfather Freud teaches us, for this purpose, accuracy and love of order are enough. Therefore, I calmly relax and swing open to meet a playful little hand, while a curious and superbly trained slave of passion caresses my testicles and cleft between the rounded muscular halves of the master's ass. Stopping for a moment, and then again up and down, back and forth, falling into the very tar-tarars and immediately retreating to their original positions in order to open wide the elastic ring.

But what will lose in one place, then add in another! Inserting fingers deeper into the anus, baby Jenny pushes my tight dick in her mouth with the same movement.Released from the pants of an old friend has long been breaking from intolerable excitement and desire. And tender fingers with their weightless, barely perceptible scratching up from the rounded master caskets the ninth shaft of the seed, and it rushes forward and outward as a stream of burning white flame, while you suck my coral with ever-increasing force. Planting it deep into the throat, exhausted from unquenchable thirst ...

- Come, o foamy breaker, and finally spill out on the sand of weathered lips that have dried out under the scorching sun!

On such a request does not respond unless deaf-blind impotent! And Mike, with a fierce cry, ends right in the open mouth of his submissive maid, forcing her to gag more than once and not two with a hot viscous stream of salty sour cream. Ends and Jenny, frantically, convulsively, dutifully swallowing and grumbling from the immense pleasure. And together with them, it seems, the whole Universe is ending: the space shakes as it leaves the microsecond of the Big Bang stretches for millions of centuries, and the past and the future collapse together in the divine mystery “Here and Now”.

...

“Is that all, Master?” - Jane asks eternally later, disappointedly, this little insatiable little glance, the princess blowjob and the embodiment of all the indecent fantasies that a pervert who has been hardened in hundreds of sexual battles come to mind.

But I know what my Jenny is hinting at,

- Wait, dear, you will have champagne for dessert. The fires are supposed to be extinguished, and my tanks are no less full than the foam bath in which we are still standing. Are you ready?

“Oh yes, Lord.” Feed me with this life-giving juice, bubbling frothy wine from your hidden depths! Scour the golden rain like Zeus the Thunderer Danae. Describe your slave more than once or twice, my Mike, the unsurpassed creator of descriptions - but now, I beg, describe!

To the one asking, let him be rewarded, especially since I myself now want and can. And the heavenly abodes opened, beating in my girl's mouth a magnificent cocktail of champagne with sour cream. So that his picture surpluses flowed over lush, elastic breasts with upturned nipples, along the stomach, over the thighs parted in passion - and merged below with that foamy-smelling pine needle, from which you again and again revive me for joy, oh my Jenny, the prodigal Aphrodite.

Worthy completion of a foamy orgy. Worthy of description and pen of the poet, and his dick, as you like best. It is desirable, of course, both.

1. Timur Shaov, “We will go our own way”

2. Mikhail Lomonosov, from a letter to Euler