paranoid personality disorder

After I pressed him on the floor and kissed him for a long time, his two legs were already hanging on me after we separated, and the saliva was left along the corner of his mouth. The head was pressed down again, and the teeth hit my mouth.

After several rounds of biting and licking, he took a rough breath and whispered, "Is it hard?"

I stretched out my hand and pulled down his thigh hanging behind me, pushing one leg with my knee, and looked down at him: "What position do you want to be fucked?"

Teased me for days.

I have to get back my money no matter what.

He laughed twice, and gave me suggestions in a sticky voice: "Why don't you tie me up with a rope, tie my ankles and wrists together, then put me on a chair, and then tie my thighs to the chair Come on. Let me wear the muzzle, don't let me moan, tie my body to the chair and block the bottom, can you just fuck me like this?"

I listened to him talking to me about this with gusto, and felt like my face was going to be fucking dark.

He lowered his head and rubbed his waist and abdomen fiercely, and thought about it for a while, this fucking old man is always led by his shameless words every time.

It's not fucking okay.

So I smiled at him and said, "Okay."

He froze for a moment, with a strange joy on his expression: "Shall I go find the rope now?"

I withdrew myself and smiled at him: "Okay."

When he really found a few ropes and came out, he held them in both hands and handed them to me.

I moved a chair and placed it in the middle of the living room, and nodded with a rope: "Sit here."

He sat on the stool with a smile, looked up at me, and stretched out his hands for me to tie.

I sneered: "Aren't your hands and feet tied together?"

He let out a cry, bent down and put his left hand and left ankle together.

I clicked my tongue twice, and straightened him up.

He reached out and tapped his thigh, then applied a little force and hung it directly on the armrest, and tied it with the rope.He took the rope and wrapped it around the armrest a few times, passed it around his thigh, pulled his hand and looked at his masterpiece.

Okay.

He was still wearing long trousers or something, and his posture was probably a little difficult, and his toes were a little stretched.

I asked him: "How is it?"

He laughed and raised his other foot: "Very good."

So I followed suit and tied his other foot up.

He was shaking a little, so he sat on the chair with his legs spread wide.

I clapped my hands and stood an arm's length away looking at him.

He looked up at me and asked with a smile, "Why don't you take off your pants? Then what the fuck."

I said, "Okay, don't worry."

He took the scissors and gestured at his pants.

He snorted twice: "Don't cut off my lifeline."

I reached out and touched his head, put the scissors on his pants, and told him, "Don't get too excited, it's really cut off."

I felt that his legs on the stool were trembling uncontrollably, and I deliberately slipped on his pants in a slow motion.

Seeing him raise his face and look at me, a bead of sweat rolled down his cheeks, and he smiled leisurely at me: "Pants are very expensive."

I lowered my head and kissed his cheek, and the scissors slid open his pants, and I felt the man let out a sigh of relief.

She stretched out her hand and tore off his pants. The color of his underwear was darkened, and he was so excited that he was dripping water.

I clicked my tongue twice, reached out and rubbed him through my underwear.

Hearing the man hum, he shook his head: "Take off your underwear and touch me, please."

Tsk tsk, no matter how you look at it, he really doesn't seem to have any sense of morality or shame.

I rubbed his already swollen panties again, and felt that this thing was so hard that it might pierce his pants at any time and stand fiercely in the air.

I reached out and touched his ass with his legs so wide open, felt around his hole through the pants, then took the scissors, and smiled: "What do you take off, let me cut it for you?"

He froze for a moment, then smiled and said, "Okay."

I took the scissors and cut a hole directly at the hole behind him, tore the hole open a bit, then threw the scissors away, and retreated back by myself.

Standing at an arm's length away from him, seeing him like this, he didn't move.

He was still a little strangely silent at first, and when he saw me walking away from him, he blinked his eyes in a daze, and smiled: "What are you doing walking so far?"

I smiled at him: "Do something you really love to do."

He hooked the toes of his legs: "Is it okay to just fuck the hole at the bottom?"

I didn't speak.

Just staring at him, he stretched out his hand to undo the belt of his trousers, took off his trousers, then pulled down his underwear, and took out his half-cocked thing.

Facing his direction, he began to masturbate.

Just look at his face like that, and then turn to the hole under him.

Seeing that his face was slightly flushed, his mouth opened and closed, closed and opened again.

Then I saw that he seemed to swallow his saliva, stuck out his tongue and licked the corner of his mouth, and said in a hoarse voice, "Am I not as good as your hands?"

I ignored him, reached out to touch the top of myself, licked the corner of my mouth and looked at the hole under him.

Shrinking in the panties, it looks like a bad fuck.

I just masturbated in front of him for a while, and when I was about to ejaculate, I blocked the exit and looked at him: "Do you want to?"

He hummed twice, and his voice was soft: "I want it."

I asked him again: "What do you want?"

His voice became softer, and he swallowed: "I want you to fuck me."

I asked, "How the fuck?"

I felt his voice was soft enough to pinch water, gasped in a low voice, and said with a moan, "As you like, as you like."

I looked at his reddish eyes, then at his ruddy mouth, but didn't speak.

He whined and shouted, "I want you to come in, as long as you come in."

I snorted and jerked myself out.

A cloud of whiteness shot directly onto the floor.

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Lao He: Drink, drink, I have a special way of educating neurotics