They were the biggest biker out there. He was wanted in 40 states. He was considered that baldest of the bad. He was now scared of this girl. Willow w...alked over to him. "Please no more..you're too much" 'He moan"Ahhh you not going to cry again are you" Willow laughed"Please" He said"This place has cool down. guess I got to HEAT it up" Willow said making a fireball in her hand"no" He screamed "I can get it up."She stroked his cock. "hmmph bored now" She said and was ready to burn the room."No. That pissy taste in my mouth for hours wasawful. It's not like I could swallow it and it would be gone. Itjust stayed there. But my pussy was so wet that there was a puddle on thefloor from my juices. I was so hot and turned on, I could hardly standit. My mind bounced between the awful pain and taste, and wantingsomething to fuck my pussy so badly. I couldn't even touch myself. Sheer agony. And when the ice finally melted enoughthat I could get to the keys, the thought occurred to me. No longer could she feel his feet against her feet or his legs against her legs. The only things she could feel were his hard cock in her pussy and the rhythmic movements of his throbbing balls as they caressing her clit with motion and heat.Alysia concentrated on his cock; she wanted to hold it in place for long as possible. But concentrating on his dick, she forgot about his balls and now, she could no longer feel them. A trace of cool air washed over her clit. A chill ran up her spine.She. God help him. Angela knew she had to dance. She felt it as she entered the room. Peter Murphy belted out the lyrics to “Stigmata Martyr”. Angela moved slowly toward him and as she did she dropped some of her dress. She saw his face. He was transfixed. She danced and with the dance she felt a primal power surge inside her. She could literally feel the power bursting from her as the song moved into it's freeze frame section. The strange voice of Bauhaus's lead singer. The odd goth beat. She.