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spywareonya

De Praestigiis Angelorum 4

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The noise would have awaken even the dead, screaming they wanted to “sleep”. Nothing of the like had ever been going on at Forst Palace before. People in marvellous dresses were striding the complex up and down, drinking heavily from delicious champagne.

 

Claire couldn’t believe what she was seeing, she was a normal person, not a plain one, not at all, she was anyway a University teacher, but she had never attended such high class celebrations. Scarlet wore an astonishing purple dress, a two-piece , one composed of some sort of foulard, knotted behind her neck and descending to squish her big tits, enwrapping them but leaving all her back naked, and very short skirt, made of a red silk belt watermarked with gold laces, from which tens of strings were hanging, reaching just belowe the buttocks, yet dispersing with every move, revealing all the tighs almost up to the waist.

 

She never met this ComTon Gregg but Boris provided her with some photographs, which she managed to destroy immediately after memorizing his features, and when she spotted him, strolling along almost drunk, her heart stopped for a second. It was at hand. Controlling her breath, she turned to Claire, whispering to her ear: “How about a kiss here in full view? It could startle all this rich mesdames et mossieur”. Claire was mesmerized by the situation, and gladly accepted Scarlet’s tongue to entwine with her own, tasting that kiss like it was the first of their lives. The music around them was deafening, but her heart thundered to the point she almost didn’t heard it. It was like a kaleidoscope of pleasure and sensations, while she hugged her mistress round her waist, meanwhile feeling her gentle yet steel-hard touch as Scarlet held her face both handed, putting in that kiss, from her behalf, a sincere passion, unwithstand the not exactly sincerity of timing. She closed her eyes, this way failing to notice that her lover was keeping hers steadily on the groggy man walking toward them with lust on his face.

 

When they parted, the red haired onw whispered to her lovely friend: “Need to talk with somebody. Have fun, and don’t disappear”. Claire instinctively took a look around, noticing a man standing near Scarlet, with some vicious smile on a strange face, the kind of features of a brutish man posing as a well-mannered lord only due to money. Expensive and exceeding dresses, jewels, but a face like a scumbag smuggler. Claire didn’t get the whole situation, but understood enough to move immediately. The red Witch was now lonely with that odd man.

 

Walking away, the blond girl swiftly perceived her bladder to be aching for relief. Her heart was thundering because a party so exclusive wasn’t exactly the right setting for a public, indecent piss. On the other hand, if she really wanted to be more similar to her lover, she should have found the guts to act like she would had. Walking up and down along corridors stuffed with people, the alcohol in her veins made her head light, and her desire to relieve her bladder even more urgent.

 

All of a sudden, a sentence floating on thin air reached her ears: “…I’m not wet, straight guy, it’s just that I’m sweaty. And I need to wee, too!”. A crystalline laughter followed those words, and she noticed a distinct woman, in her forty, walking away from a well-dressed youg man half his age, who followed her in disbelief, rubbing the fingers he probably (Claire hearted leaped up in her chest) just retrieved from the woman’s privates. “Oh no!” she laughed again, this time more openly, “You wait here!”. He stopped where he was, almost mesmerized by her, but Claire, pretending utter distraction, started to follow her, hoping to find a bathroom, because her need had become urgent and fun could definitely have waited for a better chance.

 

When the distinct lady entered a door after a quick peering inside, she tought she had find the restroom. What she saw in the fraction of second between slightly opening the door and rushing in, freezing insted, was a guest bedroom, with hard wooden floor, undispoiled by the party. The woman very likely thought the room had also an available toilet, which bedroom doesn’t, indeed? Instead, that one hadn’t any.

The woman seemed to panic, looked around, then walked to a bedside table, opening the drawer. Positioning on its side, toward the wall and turning her back to the bed, she then reached down for her vest, lifting it to her waist so to slide down dark satin panties, revealing a full yet accurately trimmed black bush.

Hoovering with her ass over the open drawer, she relaxed, and Claire could actually see an impressive and almost indecently thick torrent of piss exploding in furious need from the woman’s intimacy. From her position, the pussy wasn’t actually visible, but the stream was astounding, and Claire was almost able, since the noise of the party didn’t reach past the corner she walked, to actually hear the pattering sound of the physical release over the wood of the drawer’s bottom turning into the bubbling sound of a liquid poured into another liquid, sign that the little cupboard was actually filling up for this obscene liberation.

The peeping blondie couldn’t move as she admired the woman’s naughty deed. The pain in her bladder entwined with the brutal arousal that was sourging through her, almost forcing her to clutch her legs tight, a pleasure and a suffering beyond recognition. A sigh of relief signaled that the lady was now ready to use her pussy for some different kind of fun, and Claire rushed away while the woman wiped her pussy with a corner of the bedpans, relocating it exactly where it was, and carefully closing the drawer, leaving her inch of piss to rest there until somebody would have found out.

 

Overwhelmed with a sex drive that was beyond pleasure and was starting to feels like somebody doped her, she started to think about Scarlet. It wasn’t her alone, then. A lot of people in the world was like that. She really opened her eyes to the marvels of the worlds, the visceral, dense and dark delight of perverted piss.

 

“Scarlet…” she whispered, pausing along a wall, almost fainting, and on the fringe of wetting. “What are you doing by now?

 

“Forgive me if I did interrupt something”. Claire had just left, and now the red haired girl could focus on her target. She listened carefully. Maybe the facial features were not from South America but the accent was unmistakable. “Noticed you and your lovely friend to be tao bonita”. He paused, performing in a smile that hypothetically was aimed at being cozy, or even sexy, but resulted only in a pranking ape. Scarlet held in a sonorous laughter: “Absurd” she tought within herself, “Men from Brasil are always marvellous, why did the only dock’s rat pop up to be my target?!”. Anyway, she smiled, feigning playfully fake embarass, like sluts do feign. “Yes, yes, milady, voce e muito gostosa ”. At that time, she smiled openly, shaking delicately her hair, looking at him with a glance that screamed “pay me enough and you’ll have me on my knees”.

He took her hand, she complied, and they took a look around, searching inspiration for a secluded spot to indulge some pleasure. “Can I ask you what do you do for living?” Scarlet wanted to play the part of the silly slut, always astonished for anything, that kind of stupid whore that when unzip a man, does smile like she is impressed to find there’s actually a cock there. CompTon was drunk and stupid enough to take that question as a sincere interest from the beautiful woman, and gladly replied: “Oh, may things, milady. Mainly, I buy and re-sell ancient manufacts. I just sold a goooooooood piece to Mr Forst, and my wallet is really exploding… well, not only my wallet…”.

That information stung the woman’s mind like a jellyfish; it was hard to pretend sillyness this time: “Oh, what kind of manufact? I love those ancient strange things, they’re so fascinating! Like those who are expert about them, obviously…”. “Oh, a really interesting senhorita, aren’t you? Well, it was a statuette, from Iraq, veeeeeery ancient”. Scarlet’s heart stopped beating: “Oh, and what is a man like Stephen Forst gonna do with such a marvellous item?”. “He said it was gonna stay in his personal collection” Gregg quickly replied.

 

Now, Scarlet was radiant. Just that time, things were going great. Now she only needed to dispose off that pathetic little man. She didn’t want him to get suspicious: if it would have turned out that the two of them had to fuck, she would have fucked him without a tear. But maybe, her favourite trick would have worked that time too; when dealing with stupid males, nothing was better than a good lie: “Oh, men like you are so adorable and well mannered!!! Sometimes I really cannot understand why my hormons compels me to the be so rigid about my sexual orientation!”.He stopped and looked at her, his face implicitly asking an explaination, to which she replied: “I’m actually a lesbian!!!” with a voice tone like “Isn’t it obvious?”.

The hardest part was to avoid laughing at the puzzled face he deployed at that words. Obviously, he could have proposed her to have sex with Claire while he just watched, but Scarlet wasn’t willing to involve her into something of that sort, so she immediately added: “I really must go looking for my friend, she’s so shy, she got mad at me for that brazen kiss, I know because when she walks away without a word, she’s angry. Bye!!!”. And disappeared into the crowd.

She must find Claire, and reset the target. Stephen Forst.

Edited by spywareonya
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I do love your stories. Looking forward to the next instalment.

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55 minutes ago, steve25805 said:

I do love your stories. Looking forward to the next instalment.

in the next one your lordly character will show up...

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