Now it was silent. There was no room left to squirm, no air left to moan with, no give left in the pressurised rubber that their bodies could fight, an equilibrium reached between the growth in their suits and the tightness of their restraints. All over them, the runes glimmered, the same two: the crossed-out ‘o’ and the infinite lock. A permanent prison, perpetually perched on the precipice of climax, trapped forever in an inescapable chamber of permanent rubber, permanently encased, permanently edged permanent permanent permanent permanent permanent permanent permanent
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Hi i had a bit of a hardcore kink mood yesterday enjoy
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