Unnamed Island, South Pacific – Late afternoon, October 29, 2008
“Yes, I know it hurts. I want you to bear some pain for me.”
The Gimp’s sizable p***s appears to be a cooked hot dog, Captain Cocoa laboring to assure it has been thoroughly roasted in the strong tropical sun. She removes the tarp to expose the reminder of the Gimp’s supine form to the indirect late afternoon sun. Then she removes the gag.
“You must be thirsty.”
Kneeling over the hooded head, facing his feet, Captain Cocoa slowly lowers herself. She smiles in feeling the amazing tongue instantly thrust forth and lick. Then it plunges deep within to bring incredible waves of joy as his lips surround her entire mons and suck.
“Drink carefully. Water is scarce.”
With her words the Gimp finds her urethral opening and prepar
