The Debauched Of Antlin 24 A Fascinating Show +18

He looks at him in amazement, grasping the tips of his future wife's b.r.e.a.s.t.s and pulling them forward, until they become deformed.

His hand goes towards the Baron's shoulder to warn him to stop tormenting this beauty that in his head, is already his, but strangely enough, his arm refuses to obey him.

He should protest, even get angry, and yet, in front of this strangely fascinating spectacle, more exciting than anything he has witnessed so far, his c.o.c.k, already stretched to the extreme and always out of his pants, contracts and then releases an intense spurt of s.e.m.e.n that ends up on the sweat-soaked belly of his Rhea.

Empty b.a.l.l.s are synonymous with a clearer mind, and following this adage as old as the world handed down through the generations, the Viscount now focuses his attention on the small hole left by the syringe in the centre of Rhea's nipples, from which more and more of this white liquid escapes, whose smell recognizable in a thousand surprises once again the tall man with protruding muscles.

"Baron, how can my Rhea produce milk? Could it be that she is pregnant and I didn't know?"

…

The Baron, who presses between his thumbs and index fingers the two almost burgundy nipples of Rhea, smiles gently before such candor.

His good friend is certainly a valiant warrior in whom the King has extreme confidence, but his knowledge of s.e.x and how to make evenings in the company of women more entertaining is very limited.

"Rest a.s.sured my friend, your beautiful Rhea is certainly not pregnant. At least, I hope so for you, or soon you will find yourself with an annoying little noisy b.a.s.t.a.r.d on your hands. No, the reason why I can start milking her huge udders is quite different.

I don't know if you keep up with the progress our researchers are making, but they have found that in Humans, Orcs or even animals of various species, apart from those that lay eggs, when any female has to give birth, regardless of her species, she starts to produce milk in abundance.

Based on this observation, our researchers have found in the female what they rightly call the 'mammary gland'. I don't know much about this, but I do know that these 'mammary glands' are the parts of the body that produce milk for the unborn baby.

So it was not long before the scientists who develop products and drugs for the pleasure of the flesh, developed this liquid which I injected into the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of your future wife.

This chemical compound, the elaboration of which I know nothing about, merely deceives the body into which it is introduced. Believing that it contains a child about to be born in it, the body commands the 'mammary glands' into which the product has been injected to secrete an abundance of milk and:

See the result. Look at the beauty of these two enormous udders which, with each pa.s.sing second, offer us a little more of their so nourishing liquid.

You idiot girl, don't be useless this time, and see to it that the suction cups are properly prepared so that I can quickly place them on the large vulgar udders of this young Miss.

In any case my dear Viscount, I say it again and I insist on this point: You are a lucky man. This p.u.s.s.y is a prodigy of nature. I can a.s.sure you I've seen all talls and varieties in this room and yet never before have I seen one that juiced as much as hers."

Proud enough that the beautiful one with the miraculous v.a.g.i.n.a is his, the viscount smiles towards his old friend.

Devastated at not being able to possess this young woman with the perfect body, the Baron looks at his own wife, sighs and shakes his head.

…

Uncomfortable in her little short black dress soaked by sticky juice, which as now when she is on her knees, reveals her little bushy croup, the young brown maid decides to force her way into this very narrow v.a.g.i.n.a.

"Excuse me, Miss, but I must quickly you put it in the bottom or my master will punish me. Clench your teeth if you feel the need because your v.a.g.i.n.a is really so small that you will certainly feel your insides tear away."

The words are barely uttered when the brown Maid, whose left hand had previously been placed under the base of the alongas, pushes the metal object with all her might into Rhea's narrow v.a.g.i.n.a.

The still abundant juice flowing over the enormous metal tube, which vibrates and twists in all directions, does not make the task easy for the young maid, whose right hand is constantly slipping.

Not lowering her arms, for fear of being inflicted blows often too violent for her frail body to endure them, she clenches her teeth, holds the alongas as much as she can and continues to push the object into the always narrow part of the young womans p.u.s.s.y, which screams and contracts her back back.

…

"Be honest with me, my friend, and dare to tell me this is not the most sublime show you have ever seen?"

Not knowing what to say or how to behave, the Viscount can only look at the magnificent scene before him with his exorbited eyes.

Already addicted to the vision of the enormous alongas which gradually sinks into Rhea's tiny p.u.s.s.y, which at this moment is so dilated that he could easily slide his muscular forearm into it, the Viscount decides to get him one of these s.e.xual toys, O how miraculous.

The thin membranes of the l.a.b.i.a majora of his v.a.g.i.n.a seem to slide so easily along the metal tube, that eager to make this disproportionate thing enter himself into the depths of Rhea, the Viscount takes two quick steps forward.

Arriving in front of the beautiful one on which the Baron who is suffering so much, so much hard his s.e.x is, applies the suction cups on her two big b.r.e.a.s.t.s with purple and swollen ends, the Viscount pushes the young brown maid to the ground without sparing her and is about to kneel down.

Once again, amazed by this enormous alongas always stuck in Rhea's v.a.g.i.n.a which, in addition to vibrating, twists in all directions and continues its ascent very slowly towards the entrance of her uterus, he remains standing, not knowing what to do.

Charmed by the large drooling l.a.b.i.a majora, contracting, which seem to lick the object that now makes Rhea cry with pleasure, the Viscount smiles distractedly and without noticing it, he carries his hand to his big s.e.x erected towards the ceiling.

"You useless girl, ignore programs 1 and 2 and go straight to program 3."

Only when he hears his long-time friend's scream does the Viscount come to his senses.

Keeping in tune with the noisy milking machine that's starting to heat up, he gets down on his knees, grabs the alongas and using his warrior strength, inserts it violently into his future wife's pulsating c.u.n.t.

The object thicker than his forearm suddenly penetrates the young woman whose back is so arched backwards that it could break at any moment.

Her wild cries of vicious s.l.u.t, prisoner and submissive to his will, incite him to initiate a series of extremely fast and brutal comings and goings in Rhea's little p.u.s.s.y, whose juice is projected more than 13 feet in front of her and to her sides.

The milking machine slows down a bit. Its initially deafening noise only covered by Rhea's screams of pleasure, who cry so much her pleasure cannot be measured, is now only a discrete suction murmur sound.

Interpelled by the sudden change of atmosphere inside this room that has become damp, the Viscount looks up.