Sodom is a playground. And so guests are encouraged to play! Try the equipment, have new experiences, make friends, stretch your wings and fly. It’s a safe place to be perverse – and why not? What happens in Sodom stays in Sodom. And if you like it, you can always do it again the next week …
Steam fills the air. Water trickles across the tiles and splashes across the steps. The green plants in the corners soak up the jungle heat. She soaks it up as well. Hot water. Hot partners. Hot hands. Hot tongues.
A delightfully hot toy, in fact. It had started off cold, the glass of the silicone-lube-coated shaft contrasting with the heat of her skin. But it had swiftly taken up the warmth of the water and of her own insides, becoming a roaring fire inside her. She could feel its weight, its burn, as it pressed deep into her ass. She could feel the slide as it went deeper, the twist as the wicked woman behind her gave it a turn, the way the head pressed against her insides and the fingers teased her g-spot.
The mouth plundering hers breaks free, and the hot water cascades onto her face, drenching her. She grins, revels in the stinging sensation. Her partner drops his head and nuzzles a breast, while his hand continues to explore and tantalise her cunt folds. She lifts a hand to languidly stroke his head, pressing him into her and using his body to hold her upright.
Yvonne is pressed up full length behind her, breast to back and legs to legs, keeping the pressure on her ass and using the handle of the toy like a crank to turn it slowly, intensely. At the same time, her fingers dance inside across Ayn’s g-spot, pressing and nuzzling, while Saul flicks and squeezes and teases her clitoris, and worships her breasts in the water and steam.
Goddess or sacrifice, Ayn soaks it all up. Takes the torment, takes the pleasure. Loses herself in the sensations and the attention. Cries her orgasms into the echoes of the jungle space. Spatters her offerings across the tile, to mingle with the other hot waters that flow.
They dry each other off, enjoying the rasp of the heavy cotton towels across heat-reddened skin. Ayn admires Saul’s tattoos as she pats his chest free of water, while Yvonne admires his pert bottom. “You’re next, if you want.” she says, looking sideways at him with a smile. “That looks like an ass that could appreciate a fist, perhaps?”
Ayn breaks into a grin at Yvonne’s forwardness, and Saul has opened his mouth to reply when he pauses, thought interrupted.
“Did you hear that?” he asks.
“Hear what?” Ayn asks.
“I thought I heard… no, surely not – there are no rooms anywhere near here! But I could have sworn I heard somebody moaning.”
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