Australian homemade #1 Molly Volk

“No one does it quite like Aussie girls,” muttered Ben with a chuckle as he clicked on the video titled “Australian Homemade #1 – Molly Volk”. The thumbnail showed a tanned, blonde bombshell with a mischievous glint in her ocean blue eyes. She reclined on a towel, buxom cleavage spilling from her string bikini top, damningly beach sand clinging to sun-kissed thighs. The athletically toned body spoke of a surfer babe, at ease in her own skin and utterly comfortable with her own sexuality.

The opening shots of the amateur porn video reinforced this. Molly Volk pranced up the golden Australian beach, a kangaroo mascot clutched under one arm. Her barely-there bottoms rode up between her cheeks with each step. She broke into a full giggle, boobs bouncing wildly as she commented cheerfully to the camera:
“G’day from Oz! I’m your bouncy sheila for the day. Hope you’re wearing your board shorts ‘cuz I’m about to go for a dip.”

She dove straight into the frothing surf, flipping and twisting in the waves. The water threatened to strip off her bikini but she made no attempt to hide her modesty, if she’d had any in the first place. Emerging, she moulted water and shook her wet hair, fat nipples tenting her sopping top. She wiggled her butt at the camera:

“Fancy a closer look, mate?” Molly winked roguishly. Striding towards shore, dropping her mascot, she lay back on her towel. Working efficiently, she shimmied her shoulders and top straps slid down her arms. “Time to get air dry on the old boobies.” Cupping her heavy breasts, she angled her chest skywards, massaging her straining nipples as they obliged by tenting the fabric further. When the surf was wet enough, she peeled the top off completely, revealing her dusky areolas. “Gotta get a tan all over, eh.”

She writhed dramatically onto her back, spreading her tanned thighs and presenting her sodden gusset to the camera. The saturated material showed more than it hid. Slender fingers rubbed teasingly over the damp cloth. Then the bikini bottoms joined their athlete peer on the towel. Molly exposed her glossy slit gleefully, legs splayed, rubbing dozens of fingers over her puffy lips. Rolling onto all fours, she looked back over her shoulder and crooked a finger at the camera:

“Ignition’s on and I’m sitting solo. How about getting down here and firing me up, mate?”

The busty Aussie beauty arched her back in orgasm, anus and slit clenched expectantly. Her muffled scream made it clear she was satisfied.

Ben shook his head ruefully, mouth dry, as the final episode credits rolled. That #$@% sheila was hard to resist. For just a moment, he imagined himself diving down that red lump between her legs. Cave diving. Shaking his head again vigorously to clear it, he flopped on his back, arms folded behind his head and smirked at the ceiling. Molly would be on permanent ‘favourites’.

Just then his girlfriend bustled in, stopping short and sniffing the air suspiciously. Her eyes narrowed when she spotted her man sprawled, pants bulging, face dreamy bliss. Delicate foot came crashing down on his instep. “Ever hear of sharing, you arsehole?” She stormed out again, door slamming on untypically bad-tempered Verlaine.

Ben sat up with a pained yelp, confusion and remorse on his puppy-dog features. Then his face cracked into a beatific grin, repositioning himself in front of the computer. The woman had a point. So many sexy babes to dominate, satisfy and wilfully conquer. Feast your eyes, mate, on the decadent delights vsauce. We have it all here.

-ATHRAKITES

That’s the thing about e-bus and cyber-brohs. They can be simultaneously face-to-face with their younger lovers or sweeter pets and yet mentally elsewhere, slurping virtual Aussie bushlets who are more confident, sexier, for IT’S ALL made-up fantasy, and the closer-mind ones like me and them can straight relax and just slurp 360 degree bushlet and sweatlodge in peace and privacy, the ladies real or imagined.

So my boy, first or ‘fresher’ if you will, and some of the fattest club sluts will never know that you are ranking #1 creeper in a ranked society. There are many setting for bush-whacking. MLM(Man Love Mental Masturbation) parties. Cyclist parties. Mommy’s Guff Shack servants. Toms. Untouchables. Warriors. Jocks. Donors. The ‘succ-y’. Mammaries. Bondis. Grin-and Bear-it. Do not resembling Pearsons. Scalp. Teachers haters. Exinite Solomon. Audiophile. Bonobos. Clotheshorses. Plasticmanglers. Cyclexestial. QuiuescentRainforest. Please, please. Be gentle with me. Ha ha ha. Any other folk in this clubhouse will attempt to barbecue you: I hereby Summon the meat-protectors of this joint, just to ensure my boy does not slip up accidentally.
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