Arno is a gorgeous and refined man, but I love it when the dirtiest of words fall from his lips. He enjoys telling me his fantasies, how he wants to take me and what he wants me to do. His voice wrecks me and he knows he’ll have me any way he wants. – Axeman
I want nothing more than for Arno to completely dominate me – his noble, gentlemanly countenance giving way to a more ruthless nature as he fucks me roughly on the floor, or pressed against the wall, or pushed into his bed. His thrusts are rapid and demanding; his voice is a low growl in my ear as he holds my throat in his hand, pulling me close. When he finally comes, he bites into my shoulder, leaving hot kiss marks all over my bare skin.
Arno loves seeing and hearing me beg. He loves seeing the effect he has on me. When I beg long enough, I get so hungry that when he gives permission, I pounce on him and give him reason to do this to me again. – Axeman
To cool down in the hot Parisian summer, Arno strips down to nothing but a pair of breeches, and stands in his rooftop garden, pouring bucketfuls of water over himself. The water makes his breeches cling to his thighs, outlining the shape of his manhood distinctly. You pause to admire this very fine sight. Arno, not wanting to be made such a spectacle, tosses a bucketful of water at you, drenching you from head to toe. “Let’s get ourselves out of these wet clothes,” he murmurs suggestively.
Arno and I are not fans of masturbation when we can just fuck each other. But we have discovered the fun of watching each other as we touch ourselves to completion, all the while keeping intense eye contact.
First to cum is loser and plaything for the night. – Axeman
‘I watch in fascination as Élise de la Serre’s breasts bounce in an almost hypnotic rhythm with each of my fevered thrusts. She’s moaning and gasping, her back arching, her pretty face flushed in the mass of her red curls as she approaches her orgasm. I reach to squeeze each breast in my hands – and at my touch, she finally peaks, and I listen to her lovely whimpers of joy as her body trembles exquisitely beneath me.’
I want to have Arno as my clandestine lover; having him climb up to my bedroom window at night, careful not to be seen. We would make quiet and passionate love between the sheets, and he takes off just before the sun rises. We would exchange secret glances throughout the day, trying not to blush from memories of the night before, pretending that being near each other doesn’t effect us the least bit.
“Where are you going ma cherie?”
“To the church. I have been succumbing to naughty thoughts and must confess my sins.”
“Ah, but why go to church when you can confess them to me?” Arno suggests as he bares my chest to him. My eyes close and I moan when his mouth suckles at a breast.
His voice muffled, he continues: “And as your penance you must perform every. single. thought.” Each word punctuated with a bite has me scrambling to start my repentance immediately. – Axeman
I want to be screaming from Arno roughly pounding into me while he repeatedly rubs my clit with his thumb with each powerful thrust. Now that’s what I call, a “NIGHT”.
‘I want nothing more than to see Élise de la Serre orgasm – I want to watch that sweet face of hers blush in the throes of ecstasy, her candy-pink lips gasping as she moans, her petite body trembling and her back arching beautifully as she rides out her peaks of pleasure. Oh, and I’d listen to her sweet voice mewling out adorably as she clings to the sheets.’