Men touch her, lick her, give her handjobs, blowjobs, and use vibrators and electric massagers on her.
In the sultry shadows of a dimly lit bedroom, the alluring figure of a petite Asian beauty unfurls. Barely eighteen, she exudes an aura of youthful innocence, yet her kohl-rimmed eyes hold a glint of wanton desire. Her name, a sibilant whisper on the wind, is Aiko.
She reclines upon the plush silk sheets, clad in nothing but a scrap of lacy black lingerie that scarcely conceals her pert breasts and hint of a dark mole above her dewy cleavage. The room is hot, oppressive even, strewn with the detritus of carnal pleasure – hastily discarded clothing, empty champagne bottles, the occasional condom wrapper.
Aiko lolls languidly, her slender arms raised above her head, hands clasped behind her neck. One slender leg is drawn up, the other stretched long and inviting. A shark’s fin of black lace protrudes from her hip, tracing the line of her toned tummy. Her skin is alabaster, absolutely flawless save for the faintest smattering of freckles across her shoulders.
The men, a motley crew, slowly circle the bed like sharks scenting blood. They are all virile, muscular, their skin coppered by the sun. Completely naked, their manhoods already bob, long, thick and heavy. One has a neatly trimmed dark bush, the others completely shaved. Aiko’s eyes rove over them, drinking in the sight of such raw masculinity.
The tallest, a man with a shock of unruly black hair, reaches out and trails a finger down Aiko’s exposed throat. She arches into the touch, a gasp escaping her ruby lips. His hand trails lower, dipping into the shadowed valley of her cleavage. Aiko whimpers, head lolling back as he cups her breast, kneading the soft flesh.
Another man, broader of shoulder, more heavily muscled, joins him. His large hand runs up Aiko’s raised thigh, fingers daringly close to the patch of lace at her apex. With a swift tug, he rips the panties away, baring Aiko’s glistening sex to their hungry gazes. Aiko moans, hips undulating as the cool air hits her heated flesh.
Deftly, skillfully, they work Aiko’s body, toying with her sensitive buds, coaxing strangled mewls and wanton cries from her throat. Hands pet, pinch, massage every inch of her silken skin. Lips suckle at her nipples, bite at the soft mound of her rear. Teeth nibble at the hollow of her throat, her collarbone, the delicate skin of her inner thighs.
Aiko’s arousal mounts, a searing tide that floods her veins, pools in her center. She is writhing now, fingers fisting in dark hair, nails raking down muscled backs, heels digging into taut ass. Heruggestions and demands are hot, breathy, filthy. She begs to be touched, to be tasted, to be stuffed full of hard, hot manhood. She wants to choke on cock, fuck until she can’t walk, come until she screams.
Her darkest desires are granted. Hands plunge into her dripping sex, thrusting deep, curling against her G-spot. Other hands draw tight circles around her throbbing clit. Lips and tongues lave her nipples, her ass, her Rosal mouth. A thick, pulsing length slides past her lips, hits the back of her throat. She gluts her other holes, choking, drooling, swallowing convulsively.
The pleasure is too intense to bear. Aiko comes, again and again, shaking apart on the shackles of climax. Her slim body spasms, skin flushed and slick with sweat. But the men are insatiable, as tireless as they are generous. They reward her with fingertip massages and oscillating wands, smooth vibrating eggs and pulsing textured dildos. Aiko begs them to stop, to fuck her, to never stop. She is a writhing mass of nerves and pleasure, completely mindless with sensation.
She feels like a bitch in heat, rutting shamelessly against anything she can reach, hungry for release. The men pleasure her mercilessly, gorging her on cock and penetration and vibration. Aiko can only quake and gush, lock-jawed and cross-eyed with ecstasy, pure orgasm leaking down her quivering thighs.
The room steams and smells of sex and sweat and come. Aiko is well and truly used, wrung out, utterly debauched. Her lips are swollen and chafed, her eyes glassy and unfocused. Yet still the men stroke her, caress her, sweet-talk her. Mid-orgasm she collapses, only to be flipped over and pounded into the mattress from behind. She is just limp meat for their consumption, there for their pleasure.
By the time dawn breaks, filtering rosy fingers through the blinds, Aiko is a spent pouch, limp as a rag doll. Her eyes flutter, struggle to open. Each body part weighs a thousand pounds, leaden with exhaustion and soreness. She can barely stir when one of the men holds a glass of water to her lips, but she manages a weak smile. Good, he mouths, tilting two fingers to his forehead in a mock salute.
Aiko lolls against the pillow, eyes squeezing shut in bliss. Her entire world is the scrape of sheets, the weight of blankets, the sated thrum of muscles. When she next opens her eyes to light, she’s alone in the bed, the men long gone. Aiko sighs, the barest twitch of her lips. Until next time, she thinks to herself. Until the next round of debauchery and wrestling with the sheets…
Because that’s what she lives for – the senseless, mindless, overheated pursuit of pleasure. Aiko is purity untouched, and yet she’s a goddess of flesh and fire. She burns for the feel of flesh on flesh, the slide of skin on sweat-slicked sheets. Her body is a temple, and all males are pilgrims, eager to make offerings to the altar…
For these men adore every inch of her, worship her with fingers and tongues and cock. A thousand delicious touches, a thousand secret spots unlocked, a thousand ragged cries breaching the air. And Aiko – blissful, bone-deep goddess that she is – opens herself to it all, to endless entanglements and tender moans, to the reverential worship of multiple orgasms. She is absolutely insatiable.
