Sexual contact with Alena did not cause changes in the complexly subordinate relations of the turquoise hierarchy. The redhead still collaborated with me in the struggle for the Power of the Key, bundling up the spuds of the Wyrex men.

“Apparently, turquoise in eggs creates immunity against any dependence,” I concluded, watching the behavior of the ward. Alyona had one dependency: to give a harem as often as possible, to make a turquoise injection in the mouth and in the butt from dawn to dusk and especially at dusk time.

Alyona wriggled the invaders for hours, occasionally leaving the game room to drink some water. At such moments Dust reminded me of a rooster trampling chickens in a hen house. From excessive physical activity, the redhead burst into muscles, like a woman's soft, clearly visible in the sinewy hands, pumped hips. She looked like a pompous fitness trainer.

- What's wrong with me? - she wondered during periods of calm before the storm.

- Why? - I naively asked, although I saw with my naked eye what kind of beast it turned into in terms of sex.

- I can not stop, - Alena sincerely regretted the lost female role.

In an effort to fill the gap, she was dressed up in short tight dresses, tights and stockings with arrows and diamonds, exposing her breasts to indecent, bulging boobs without a bust under the décolleté, which stretched to the solar plexus. So she walked down the street in the evenings, accompanied by one of her bodyguards. Sometimes she flirted with new friends who moths flew to honey. Everyone dreamed of trying to taste Alena, to figure out her secret, but only a select one had a chance to enjoy socializing with the Copper Stick Mistress.

At first, Alena's interest extended exclusively to men. She looked at the girls of the Sect of the Seven Keys who came to me for communion with curiosity, sometimes with undisguised lust in the green luster of the pupils.

###

Angela has one day to rest. In a week, a big girl knocks up to six thousand greens from an office clientele. Monthly is not an obstacle, because the client is interested in other holes with which Angie the mistress with two years of experience is snapped up.

- Pavel Valerievich says that you will soon die from dehydration, - Angie looks at me as if I am already a corpse.

- Does he suspect anything? - my pulse bounces. I jump in the chair myself, move to the other end of the room. Like a tiger in a cage, back in place.

“He thinks you're going to kidnap me,” Angela smiles sourly.

“Would you like me to kidnap you?”

The sour smile on her face gives way to a cheerful one.

- Of course. Do you want? - Angie blooms with the mischief of cheeks and lips. Only the eyes remain sad.

- Yes, - I approach her, take her hand.

- when? - the big girl babble.

- Right now. Do you believe?

She does not believe. Shakes his head.

“You can't kidnap me right now.”

- Can.

- How?

- Look.

I slowly pull out large pliers from the drawer section. Please Angie off jeans. We sit on the bed, Angie spreads his lush thighs. Between them, under the translucent pink fabric of the panties, a spring coupler sticks out. Muller's Castle crowns the inner lips of the vagina. All this with distinct contours is imprinted on top. The whole picture of the slavery of a big girl in front of dozens of loyal customers. They pass by, end up in the anus and mouth, no one cares about the personal drama of the wheat blonde-bdsm-shchyt pulled in all places.

I panty to the side, the puffy bleached lips of the vagina tightly brought together, the clitoris is pulled out with a lock-scarab. Angie's hands are trembling, scarlet boat nails pushing the scene of action. Fluffy thighs finally fold in one plane. Angie big oyster fit in front of me in the wide open waiting for a miracle.

I find the locking clip, I ask Angie to hold the lock exactly.

- Ready?

“Yes,” a big girl whispers, barely moving her lips.

Crack - Angie's lock falls apart, releasing the spring. We pull a toothy monster from the vagina.

- Now you are free. So, you can do whatever you want, to love who you want.

“I only love you,” whispers Angie.

“I love you too,” he smiles, covering his plump labia with his mouth.

There is no going back. Tomorrow Muller finds out that the big girl has gone to the gap, got off the hook, finding happiness elsewhere. In the meantime, we have time to enjoy the first vanilla sex. Uncovered, dangerous, impudent.

###

In the General Directorate for Drug Control and Counteraction to Trafficking in Persons, office plankton stumbles around the offices, practicing paperwork. The dark blue uniform, blue shirts and ties became familiar to the eyes of Khomich Viktor Vladimirovich. The chief sighs doomedly to himself:

“Monday the bespredelnik begins fervently,” he thinks, glancing at Alena’s gorgeous ass playing with koloboks in front of him.

The detainee Will, wagging his hips, clattering on the heels of the corridor, following in full parade into Khomich's office. She is wearing handcuffs, a short tight dress, velvet, purple, black fishnet stockings, and it is indecent to look out from under the bottom edge of the dress. A convoy of two law enforcement officers escorts the red-headed fury to the meeting place, which for obvious reasons cannot be changed.

“Well, tell me, honey, where have you been hanging around all this time?” - Khomich rubs bags under the eyes, stone eyes sharpen the carefree attractive face of the escaped red Vestalka.

- Rested, gaining strength, - Alena is unshakable in her childhood desire to avoid punishment.

- Um. Rested, then - Khomich Merit beauty ass ass. “Well, you seem to need strength right now.”

With a thick, gravelly finger, Polkan searches for a miniature button on the switch:

- Lyudochka, and make us a seagull, please, and invite Maltsev with Mikhnevich.

Two ambala-chiropractor accompany office aphids. A fair-haired goat servant scurrying in the dressing room spreads in courtesies:

- Anything else, Viktor Vladimirovich? - makes a stand on the boar.

- Perhaps I will not refuse, - Khomich winks at the cheeky boars, who have taken places in the corners. They grin, anticipating feeding. Two crocodiles razzyavili toothed mouths.

“Cut it off, now they will impose sanctions on you,” the regiment sits reclining in the chair. An animal grin freezes on a tired face. - Why are you sitting? - he returns to Alena. - Do you need a special invitation? Serve the boys, since I looked at the tea.

Khomich sherbaet tea, claw clinging to the handle of the iron cup holder. With his left hand, he holds onto a pack of genitals under his pants. Lyudochka, an intern, who did not know fatherly caresses, sweats her sweaty palms over her thighs and finds a lightning slider on the tailbone. Skirt-glass moves down to his knees, falls to the floor. Goat takes a step forward, leaving the vicious circle. She has stockings with a matte sheen, openwork white panties. In the hands of a pink strepon appears on a solid triangular base. With confident movements, the subordinate fastens the plastic member on the thighs.

“What's the news?” - Khomich's pig eyes instantly fly up to his forehead, his jaw falls.

- This is not news, Viktor Vladimirovich, - Lyudochka takes a step to the table, swaying on heels. - This is what we will report all the time now.

- Come on out! - Khomich growls. - What are you looking at? - He turns to the wolfhounds, who with the same grins of crocodiles are following the act of insubordination. - Behind her door, quickly!

“Sorry, Viktor Vladimirovich,” Maltsev’s sour voice snatches out Mikhnevich, who is standing nearby, and Alena, who is sitting on a frontal spot, from torpor. They liven up. Like a pack of hungry wolves, they surround the table, preparing to jump.

“You have to suffer a little,” Lyudochka murmurs.

The last words barely break away from sluggish lips, as the brutal conspirators pounce on the inhibited Khomich, twist his hands ...