White dog jumping on mars

In a forgotten land, where ancient secrets lie hidden, one hero embarks on a quest that will test their courage and strength with random style

Why did this have to happen to you?” I cry, dropping my head into my shaking hands, tears streaming down my face and dripping off my chin. “How did I never know this part of your life? I was your very best friend. I never knew you were a writer, let alone wrote such erotic things!” I just received an email informing me that I was a “legacy contact” for my best friend and roommate, Opal, who is presumed dead. The last time I spoke to her was Sunday night. She was meeting friends downtown for dinner and never came home. The police found her car on the side of the road, rear-ended, with the contents of her purse scattered everywhere. An investigation is ongoing, but there are no other clues. This leads me to today. I am just learning that I inherited her massively successful writing pages and her secret persona. I can’t believe I am just discovering that Opal was a famous erotic writer who wrote under a pen name. Those close to the case think she is dead, and it certainly looks that way. Although I don’t want to admit that to myself yet if she were alive, she would have contacted me by now if she could. A message appears in Opal’s writing account. A notification popped up from another page on Facebook from someone named Marcus Anderson. I open it, not really having a plan. I guess I need to break the news that she is missing. “Are we still meeting tonight? I haven’t heard from you this week.” Shit, what do I do? I clicked in the text box, and I knew he saw those blinking blue dots as if I was writing something. I have to answer. . . oh my god, what do I say? As I began writing something completely lame, he sent another message. “If so, you will come with no panties, shave completely, drink plenty of water, and be ready for a night of exploratory pleasure. You must keep your mind open and learn along the way. I look forward to our long-awaited first meeting.” I was about to relay the tragic news, but his message caught me off guard. Who is this man that is contacting you? My mind is racing. He may have helpful information. I wonder if Opal ever sent him a picture of herself. I am intrigued and thinking of making a very impulsive decision; to ride this one out and become Opal. She left this page and responsibility to me for reasons I still don’t know. Perhaps, I can pick up where Opal left off? Making a decision, albeit maybe a bad one, I answer back after searching their conversation and picture history. No pictures were sent, no descriptions, just Opal playing her coy self, making him wonder in anticipation. Part of me wants to get answers. Maybe I can figure out what happened to her. “I’ll be there tonight, following all the rules you set forth. What shall I wear if not panties?” I question. “A package will arrive at your residence within the hour. Just in time for you to shower, change, and be ready for my driver to pick you up at 4:00 pm. Until then . . . enjoy preparing yourself for me. Remember, this is happening at your request, my dear.” What have I gotten myself into, I think? Posing as Opal is either the most brilliant or dumbest decision ever. You only live once, and I don’t have much going for me here anyway. Why not? Life is about taking risks. In the meantime, I sift through Opal’s accounts. I recognize many of her writing pieces, but not as the Opal I know. They are stories I read, not realizing it was written by her using a pen name. How have I not seen this before? My best friend is a huge published erotica writer, and I had no clue. She writes about mystery, BDSM, kinks, sex, and forbidden desires that would make anyone blush. I am floored by what I am reading. Opal was beginning a new book, it seems and started researching different kinks she had not experienced before. I’m sure her research is what spawned the requests that Marcus made. At exactly 3:00 pm, the doorbell rang, and a courier left the most exquisite red box with a black satin bow on the doorstep. I bring it inside, embarrassed that I am already turned on by thinking about meeting this stranger without panties. I opened the box, and my desires exploded. Inside the box was a short, black silk robe. I slipped it around my body with ease, and it fit perfectly. I tied the sash around my waist, and the front just skimmed the sides of my breasts. It was short, just past my ass, and had the most brilliant bounce when I walked. It was perfection. Now to unwrap the rest. Next, I unwrapped a string of two pleasure beads. They were metal, connected, and cool to the touch. There was a letter explaining what to do with them. It said, “You will fully insert the pleasure beads one at a time into you, holding them in with your muscles, remember no panties. During this process, do not let yourself get too turned on, only enough to be dripping with pleasure, but not enough to cum. Insert the beads at exactly 3:45 pm. This has taken quite a turn, but I was indeed following through. The second box smelled like cinnamon. It was a bottle filled with thick lube. The letter stated, “Apply this warm essence on your nipples and rub for at least thirty seconds, pinching and massaging. You will also apply this to your clit, fully soaking yourself; activating the warming sensation. You will want to use this before inserting the beads.” The third package was a black lace corset. It was exquisite and delicate. The lacing up the back is perfection. I am aroused by Marcus’s taste, knowing now what Opal saw in him. There are black garters attached and also thigh highs to wear. Of course, no panties were included. There is one more package and several bottles of water. I am already experiencing high levels of wetness forming between my legs in anticipation. I don’t know how I am going to last thinking about tonight, let alone applying all these things onto and into my body. The very last package is the most interesting of them all. There are three items. Two leather cuffs for my wrists and a black leather collar that seems to be for my neck with a silver ring attached to it. “Oh, my god - Opal, what were you involved in? But looking back through your conversations with Marcus, you trusted this man. He seemed to be your teacher, your mentor in the writing world. You needed this night to experience more aspects of this lifestyle to finish your next novel. I won’t let you down,” talking to Opal but to myself. It is comforting, but I am devastated she is not here. “You have six more months to finish and submit your next manuscript to the publisher. No one seems to know your identity or that you are missing.” I can’t get myself to say dead. “I will finish your book and save your legacy if I get through the night. Maybe I can learn more about you and who you were through Marcus.”

A man in a silver blazer wearing a gas mask takes a knife from his pocket

Kissa sins masturbation

A majestic tiger sits on a rocky outcrop, its orange and black fur glistening in the warm sunlight. The tiger's eyes seem to hold a deep wisdom, gazing out into the distance with a quiet confidence. Its powerful legs are tucked beneath its body, and its claws dig gently into the rough rock. The air around the tiger seems to vibrate with a subtle energy, as if the very presence of this wild creature is alive and pulsing with power. In the background, a misty forest stretches out, with tall trees looming like sentinels and a delicate spider's web glinting like silver lace.

penis shooting sperm cumshot

dildo moving in and out of vagina

a girl that walks in the street

White dog jumping on mars

A woman in a silver blazer wearing a gas mask folding a knife and short red hair and blue eyes

Dancing CAT

dog fucking milf

fucking

Man in a silver blazer