Hotshot Divorce Attorney’s Cum-uppance – Page 1
It’s been awhile since we’ve had a new story from Richard but I’m pleased to announce that he’s back with a HOT story with something for everyone. Arrogant divorce attorney and all around stud Chase Forbes suffers through a much deserved revenge when a jilted husband and his hung latino accomplice take the straight stud hostage and put him through the ringer. Tickling, spanking, cum control, lots of creative ass play, shaving, fucking and even a dominatrix scene. Whew! This story will leave you as breathless as poor Chase Forbes!
Hotshot Divorce Attorney’s Cum-uppance – Page 1
by Richard (and as inspired by Reuben)
Art by Androscoped. Check out his TUMBLR PAGE!
Chase Forbes, Esq. accelerated the roaring V-12 engine of his fire-engine-red Ferrari California T to pass a sluggish Volvo as his tires squealed around yet another graceful curve of Sunset Boulevard as he headed home after another very successful day at his powerhouse law office. Had Chase been a cinema buff, he might have realized that he was traversing many of the same curves of the road that “Joe Gillis” aka William Holden did in the movie “Sunset Boulevard” albeit some 66 years earlier and in a much-less-fancy car, and at least Chase was not being “chased” by anyone, but rather was, as far as Chase knew, simply hurrying home to his less-than-tasteful manse.
Chase had returned to his law office after visiting his gym in order to return a few important phone calls, and was now in no mood to be further delayed by “some old fart in a fuckin’ Volvo,” as Chase’s gym bag lurched to the other side of the Ferrari as Chase took the curve at high speed. The night was still young, it was a Friday, and horny-as-always Chase was in the mood for a nice dinner followed most likely by a call to one of the “bimbos and bitches” in his “little black book” who were always more than willing to take a ride on the super-rich and powerful Chase’s legendary cock known (to him) as his “cunt-tamer.”
Chase was a wildly successful Beverly Hills divorce lawyer who, even at age 32, had become widely known as a darkly-handsome celebrity of a sort in his own right by representing A-list superstar celebrities (both men and women, but mostly women) in many of their well-publicized, wildly expensive and serial divorces, the movie-star-handsome Mr. Forbes demanding (and receiving) millions of dollars at a time each time he was retained for such services. Chase also represented a fair number of behind-the-scenes producers, directors, casting agents and the like in the entertainment business who, while not necessarily famous, were extremely high net worth individuals who could also fork over the giant retainer amounts demanded by the brash, arrogant Chase Forbes when they, too, faced divorce.
In reality, this was not due to any particular legal acumen but rather based on his reputation for getting top dollar for his clients, as he shamelessly bragged on numerous TV talk shows, effectively flaunting his wealth and alleged legal prowess on the TV shows in his expensive suits. The TV show appearances further developed and maintained his own increasing celebrity, Mr. Forbes clearly loving having his immense ego stoked by fawning female TV talk show hosts who further often commented on Chase’s own good looks and sun-tanned gym-toned body which set off his startlingly blue eyes which twinkled sexily for the TV cameras under dark, manly brows, as Chase ate up all the admiration, and, with false modesty, claimed that he was not in the least a celebrity himself, that he simply “fights for just settlements for my clients.”
It was also not so much a secret that Chase was not above (indeed secretly prided himself on) using distinctly underhanded and brass-balled never-fail tactics to win the most lucrative settlements, tactics which included, but were not limited to, hiring seedy, unlicensed “investigators” to learn the peccadilloes of the opposing celebrity spouse, even to the extent of covertly hiring B-, C- and D-list struggling starlets and/or soap opera hunks to seduce the man or woman involved in the particular celebrity divorce, with the “investigators” providing primo photos and dvds of the sex tapes for blackmail purposes, making a huge settlement from the opposing spouse a sure thing and landing even more money in the pockets of Forbes’ designer suits.
Chase further was not above unethically screwing (literally and figuratively) several A-list celebrity women he represented in their divorces, using their vulnerability stemming from their impending divorce to offer his “personal services” to make them feel that they were still desirable and attractive to other studs like himself, and “showing them how a ‘real man’ like himself would ‘rock her world’” by “fucking your brains out till you’re begging for more!” Chase brought several such celebrity clients to his secluded estate, where he indeed “rabbit-fucked” them, even introducing them to (and more often forcing them to) engage in the kinky foreplay he demanded, involving bondage devices and various “toys” and Hitachi vibrators he used on them to force them to have multiple, often squirting orgasms, and shoving his rampant “cunt-tamer” into every orifice of their bodies, all secretly filmed by hidden cameras, the better for use as blackmail against his own clients if need be.
Chase was aware that, in doing so, many celebrity spouses hated his guts after they had been fleeced by one of his many schemes to blackmail them into financial submission, but Chase got off on the whole power trip of the money and celebrity and literally would laugh in the faces of the losing spouse and tell them to “go fuck yourself, asshole” or “bitch” as the case might be.
The arrogant, egotistical Forbes prided himself on his reputation as a “ladies’ man” and had recently been linked to a non-celebrity heiress of a vast fortune. Nevertheless, Chase had so far understandably avoided falling into the “trap” of marriage to her, and continued to enjoy “playing the field” and “porking all the bitches and bimbos in this town.”
Chase further kept himself in peak physical condition at his ultra-exclusive “Equinox-On Steroids” gym he frequented along with many A-list celebrities, a place with such high fees that few others could afford to be members- that way Chase didn’t have to deal with working out beside “poor people” whom he disdained. Chase got a kick out of running into big-name celebs at his gym, which helped his professional networking as well. Why, just that day Chase had had a short chat with Ben Affleck, the buff celebrity clad only in a gym towel as he headed to the showers, the brief exchange including a reference to Ben’s pecker having made a famous shower-scene appearance in “Gone Girl,” Chase jokingly giving Ben some “free advice” to “keep it out of the nanny” as he slapped Ben’s towel-clad ass, or that he or Jennifer “might be needing my, [wink-wink] er- services- legal services that is!” which actually fell flat but Chase thought it was hilarious and laughed uproariously at the thought.
The exchange with Ben Affleck made up for the fact that Chase had noticed out of the corner of one eye, only as Chase was leaving the gym, that none other than Jake Owens must have been in the gym the entire time Chase was working out. Jake was an up-and-coming talent agent for many celebrities, and had been the spouse of an A-list actress for a few years before the couple divorced. The A-list actress had been Chase’s client and one of Chase’s “investigators” had dug up some “dirt” that Jake Owens was actually bisexual, although the “investigator” could find no evidence that Jake had ever cheated on his spouse (Chase’s client) during the marriage, either with a man or a woman. Extra digging turned up the fact that Jake had a “thing” for a major gay porn star. Ever-scheming Chase had the “investigator” secretly and anonymously hire the gay porn star to “come on” to Jake at the talent agent’s office, the porn star being put up by Chase to claim that he “wanted to make it in legit show biz” placing him in a position to (successfully) seduce Jake into a tryst at a nearby motel, all filmed by the sleazy “investigator” for blackmail purposes.
Although Chase never divulged Jake’s infidelity or at least its nature, this was not for any altruistic reasons but because his blackmail had already paid off big time in any case to the A-list star’s satisfaction as well (until Chase successfully got her to pay him the lion’s share of it!), and the money is all Chase ever cares about. However, to add insult to injury, Chase in fact banged Jake’s ex wife, the vulnerable A-list actress, on multiple occasions at Forbes’ own home throughout the divorce process, forcing her to engage in the kinky foreplay he demanded, involving bondage devices and various “toys” and Hitachi vibrators he used on her to force her to have multiple forced orgasms for his amusement, Chase shoving his rampant manhood into every orifice of her body, all secretly filmed by hidden cameras, the better for use as blackmail against the A-list actress herself if need be. Then Chase cruelly threatened her about the sex tapes he had on her when she protested his attempting to take a bigger share of the settlement than he was entitled to under their retainer, and Chase then dropped her and went on to his usual series of “bimbos and bitches” while pocketing the lion’s share of the settlement from Jake for himself!
Chase was glad that there had been no problem with Jake Owens at the gym, which could have been awkward and best avoided. Chase didn’t detect any particular animosity emanating from Jake, and figured Jake had simply gotten on with his life and had put the messy divorce behind him. Chase was in fact quite mistaken.
In fact, Jake’s ex-wife had recently run into Jake at an event and had quietly filled Jake in about how Forbes had unethically preyed on her vulnerability during the divorce proceedings and used it to make his own otherwise unwanted sexual conquest and then had used the threat of a sex tape to steal the lion’s share of Jake’s divorce settlement, and had candidly detailed the way Chase sexually abused her and forced her to satisfy the arrogant attorney’s own perverse desires.
After turning north off of Sunset Boulevard in his sexy, fire-engine-red “pussy-grabbing” Ferrari, Chase wound his way through a procession of hillside streets before he entered the exclusive cul-de-sac that led to his “baronial” if-not-quite-subdued manse, an utterly tasteless and rococo monstrosity that only anyone named “Trump” might find “classy” (and with a capital “K”).
The electric gates to his private driveway were unfortunately not currently operational and the gates remained stuck “open” much to Chase’s dismay, Chase barking into “Siri” on his i-Phone to remind his long-suffering staff of abused female “underlings” (the word he barked into “Siri”) that they HAD to call the security company on Monday to resolve that issue “IMMEDIATELY” or that he would personally “fire each and every one of their sorry asses” quote unquote.
Chase then roared up in his impressive red Ferrari California T into the circular driveway of his secluded manse, not sure whether he would be going out again or “ordering in” from the best restaurants (and “ordering in” from the best “bimbos and bitches” in his “little black book” who were always more than willing to take a ride on the super-rich and powerful stud’s legendary “cunt-tamer.”)
Chase grabbed his gym bag containing his sweaty gym clothes from his vigorous workout earlier in the day and his crocodile-skin briefcase (“the hell with endangered species” was Chase’s view) (containing not much of anything since he did virtually no actual “work”) and strode up in his customarily spiffy (and wildly expensive) designer suit and silk tie toward the gaudy front “double-door entry” to the ghastly baronial pile he called “home.”
Chase vaguely realized that, for some reason, just like with the security gate, the instant-on security lights that were supposed to come on when anyone approached the front door also failed to light, and, just as he contemplated why or how this unusual event was occurring, the studly attorney’s vision was completely obscured when someone unseen in the dark from behind suddenly pulled a black nylon hood over his head and down to just over his nose, completely obscuring his vision, and then, when he reflexively thrust his hands back toward the unseen person who had effectively blindfolded him, felt another person click a pair of steel handcuffs over his wrists behind his back!
“WHAT THE FUCK!!!??? WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU FUCKIN’ ASSHOLES WANT FROM ME?? YOU CAN HAVE MY WALLET AND THE PATEK PHILLIPPE!!! JUST LET ME THE FUCK GOOOOO!!!!!” was hotshot attorney Forbes’ response.
To Chase’s horror, his captors said not one word in response to his (to them) amusing pleas, other than to pointedly order Chase (at the point of a cold steel gun barrel to his forehead that Chase could not help but feel even through the black nylon hood covering half of his handsome face), to “GIVE US THE SECURITY CODE TO OPEN THE DOOR, ASSHOLE, OR YOU’RE FUCKIN’ DEAD!!!”
Fearing for his life, and with additional jabs of the gun barrel to his head and his precious crotch to emphasize his predicament, Chase complied and soon felt himself being tossed through the garish “double-door” entry to his chandelier-heavy manse as one of his unseen attackers pushed in the requisite code again in the foyer to disarm the security system until re-set.
Again, Chase’s attackers thereafter had little to say, poking their hooded and handcuffed victim in the back of his expensive designer-suited back (and poking against his designer-suited ass) ordering the arrogant, protesting celebrity attorney hotshot upstairs to his own master bedroom, the scene of his many forceful attacks on women, including his own clients, Jake poking the gun into Chase while his accomplice followed, bearing Chase’s gym bag and briefcase as well of the duo’s own “bag of tricks.”
Jake Owens had been filled in by his ex-wife about the layout of the master bedroom suite and where Chase kept his collection of “toys” he used to alternately pleasure, tease or inflict pain on the women he lured there. Jake had convinced his boyfriend, Mateo, a young Latino hottie who very much resembled a younger version of retired porn star Max Grand, to help Jake get revenge on the hotshot divorce attorney who had made a major dent in Jake’s bank account, and to use their own “persuasion” tactics to obtain the dvd and all copies of the blackmail tapes Chase had on Jake’s ex-wife and on Jake as well, and any other ones sleazeball Chase had in his possession to lord over any other of Chase’s unfortunate victims, and destroy all of them.
The duo shoved a spluttering, outraged Chase Forbes at gunpoint into the master bedroom, which was dominated by Chase’s own huge 4-poster bed. However, unlike the rest of the over-the-top glitzy house, this room was devoid of all the chandeliers and had an almost minimalist, modern feel, the “4-poster” not being made of wood but rather from an industrial-type polished steel from the iron mesh headboard to the 4 polished steel “posts” all of which were connected at the top to each other by thin but sturdy steel beams that connected all 4 posts at the top of the bed structure and up near the ceiling, the bed clearly designed to easily facilitate the use of Chase’s kinky bondage equipment.
The duo wrestled the disoriented Chase out of his designer suit coat, Chase at a distinct disadvantage since the black nylon hood covering the upper portion of his face prevented him from seeing anything for the time being. Mateo had quickly put down the gym bag, briefcase, and the duo’s own “bag of tricks” from which Mateo extracted spreader bars with apparatus to bind one’s wrists and ankles respectively. Mateo also quickly set up and activated the video recording equipment they had brought to document all that occurred.
The duo then easily forced the hotshot at gunpoint to back up to the foot of their victim’s own steel 4-poster whereupon his cuffed wrists behind his back were temporarily freed only to be raised high above his head and attached to the spreader bar for his wrists which in turn was attached to one of the thin but sturdy steel beams that connected all 4 posts at the top of the bed structure and up near the ceiling, Mateo then grabbing Chase’s kicking feet and placing them into the metal spreader bar for their victim’s ankles which were duly snapped into place and secured to the floor of the bedroom. This left the outraged Chase in a basic “X” position bound standing at the foot of his own bed clad in his spiffy suit pants and designer shirt and tie, fuming at the indignity of it all. Chase further felt Mateo help himself to Chase’s prized Patek Phillipe watch and wallet since, after all, Chase had offered them to them anyway.
“Ok, NOW what the FUCK do you assholes want from me? You already got my wallet and watch. There’s more money there than you fuckers have ever seen in your fuckin’ worthless lives! So let me the fuck go, NOW!” ordered an imperious Forbes, ignoring the fact that he was presently in the unaccustomed position of not being able to spew orders to anyone for a change, being firmly trussed to the foot of his own bed.
The duo said not a word which pissed Chase off even more. “What the fuck? Are you assholes some kind of fuckin’ retard deaf-mutes or something? Answer my fuckin’ questions, NOW!” again ordered Chase.
As Chase fumed, he felt one of the duo (Mateo) deftly slipping off the hotshot divorce attorney’s highly polished and expensive Testoni loafers from the arrogant stud’s size 12 feet followed by his sweaty Bresciani cashmere dress socks, Mateo dangling the damply sweaty executive socks in front of Chase’s elegant nostrils which were already flared from the stud’s outrage at this indignity, Chase demanding “What the fuck are you fuckers doing now? Can’t you poor-ass thieves afford some fuckin’ socks? Whew? What the fuck! Get those smelly things out of my face!” as Mateo quietly dangled them and the duo laughed but otherwise said nothing, infuriating Chase all the more.
While Mateo dangled the smelly socks in front of Chase’s protesting mouth and over his wrinkling, twitching nose, Chase felt mildly discomfited at feeling his very pampered feet (Chase indulged in regular male pedicures and foot massages, the pampered soles of his executive feet regularly cared for and buffed to smooth perfection on a weekly basis) laid bare and exposed to the cool air and against the cold, polished hardwood floor of the bedroom while the rest of his hunky body remained fully and impeccably clothed. It gave him a weird feeling like he was standing there completely stark naked before these poor-ass strangers and such a thought sent a shiver down his hunky spine.
Worse, while Mateo dangled the socks over Chase’s face, Forbes felt the other member of the duo (Jake himself as yet unbeknownst to Chase) lift first his right and then his left bare foot off of the floor a bit and run a single finger along the pampered, pinkly smooth and flexing soles and between the scrabbling, bare pink toes of the hotshot divorce attorney’s bare feet currently trapped in the ankle-spreader bar below, which elicited a satisfying gasp from their victim’s shocked lips followed by a silly, high-pitched shriek and girlish giggle as the hotshot made a futile attempt to pull his bare feet away from Jake’s tickling fingers, Chase’s wild gyrations only making the socks Mateo continued to annoyingly dangle in front of Chase’s outraged face, the top of which was obscured by the black nylon hood, press all the more closer to Chase’s offended nostrils.
Chase found himself going “AIEEEEEEE!!!!! OH MY GAWDDDDDDD!!!! STOPPPPPP!!! NOOOOOOOOO!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAH! THAT…..FUCKIN’….TICKLES!!!! STOPPPPP!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAH!” as the duo simply laughed uproariously but made no verbal comments, merely exchanging confirming nods that their victim appeared to be satisfyingly ticklish, most likely all over his hunky, gym-toned body, a definite “plus” for their planned future retribution against the sleazy hotshot attorney, Mateo further humiliating the hotshot by drowning his further protests temporarily by the simple expedience of shoving the attorney’s own smelly socks into his protesting mouth for a bit- the utter indignity of it all!
Nevertheless, to Chase’s relief, Jake did cease the tickling for the time being, but the entire experience left Chase fearful of exactly what these fuckers were up to as he found himself futilely trying to spit out his own smelly cashmere executive socks. What kind of dudes go around tickling other dude’s feet, shoving their own smelly socks in their faces, and why? It was all very weird and didn’t fit into any of Chase’s preconceived notions of what robbers were supposed to do- they were supposed to steal stuff and fucking leave! Chase felt himself involuntarily breaking out in a nervous sweat as the buff stud began to unconsciously squirm in his bondage, yearning to be free of this ridiculous situation, Chase silently feeling a few drops of his manly perspiration slowly drip down from his hirsute armpits and down the sides of his suntanned, hairy body under the cover of his designer dress shirt and tie. Chase was accustomed to “keeping his cool” at all times and this was all very unsettling for him, to say the least.
Mateo then removed the socks from Chase’s protesting mouth, whereupon the outraged hotshot spewed forth with more loud protests about being let go and to “stop all this shit, NOW!” trying to re-assert (he thought) his authority in this matter by spewing out more orders all of which maddeningly fell on deaf ears with no verbal response from his unseen captors, who merely exchanged further silent, amused glances at their spluttering victim’s deserved comeuppance and firmly bound, complete and total impotence to do anything about it.
After a few agonizing, silent minutes when nothing further happened other than the sound of a few drawers being opened, Chase began to think it was all over and he was about to be freed from his squirming bondage after all whereupon his ears detected (despite their thin covering of black nylon by the hood), a slight buzzing sound that became a bit louder whereupon, to Chase’s complete horror, he felt one of the duo (Jake) place the buzzing thing right against the crotch! of the thin wool fabric of his designer suit pants! But, it couldn’t be, could it? Why, it felt and sounded like one of Chase’s own Hitachi wand vibrators the hotshot divorce attorney had used to force unwanted orgasms out of his “bitches and bimbos” not to mention out of A-list celebrities (including Jake’s own ex-wife). But those things only worked on women’s clits, right? What the fuck was going on and how did the duo find Chase’s stash of “toys” and/or know right where to look for them? Now Chase was truly scared shitless, beginning to realize that this duo, whoever they were, actually might be intending to (and already seemed to have started to!) use his own “toys” (and God knows what else they may have brought with them?) and use them on HIM????? There was simply NO FUCKIN’ WAY that THAT was going to happen and Chase was now determined to save himself whatever the cost.
The still blindfolded-by-the-black-nylon hood Chase therefore demanded that his still unseen captors “STOP THAT SHIT RIGHT NOW !!! GET THAT FUCKIN’ HITACHI WAND VIBRATOR OFF MY FUCKIN’ CROTCH NOW!!!!! YOU FUCKERS HAVE NO IDEA WHOM YOU’RE DEALING WITH!! WHO PUT YOU POOR-ASS FUCKERS UP TO THIS SHIT!!!!???? I’LL PAY FUCKIN’ DOUBLE, TRIPLE WHAT WHOEVER IS PAYING YOU IS PAYING, I’M SO FUCKIN’ RICH YOUR HEADS WILL SPIN!!! NOW LET ME GO AND WE’LL TALK NUMBERS!!!”
Once again, this outburst was met by yet another complete silence but for the insistent buzzing of the Hitachi wand vibrator at Chase’s suit-panted crotch which was maddeningly pressing even more firmly right along the head and length of the hotshot attorney’s “cunt-rammer”.
“ANSWER ME GODDAMN IT!!! C’MON, LET’S TALK NUMBERS!!! STOP THIS SHIT NOW!!!!” ordered Chase impotently, amazed that anyone, and especially his “poor-ass” captors, did not seem to be interested in money. What the fuck was the world coming to?
Not only did the silence except for the buzzing vibe continue, but Chase found himself sensing that one of the duo (Mateo) had gotten up on the bed behind where Chase was bound to the bottom of the bed and had begun to first untie and then remove the fuming Chase’s designer silk tie and then had reached down and began to lightly and sensuously caress Chase’s heaving, muscular chest through the thin Egyptian cotton material of Chase’s designer dress shirt, as their outraged victim gasped in astonishment at the unwelcome and unsettlingly knowing touch of another man against his manly body, especially when Mateo began to flick and tweak Forbes’ manly nips through the thin cotton material, causing them to rise to full erection as Chase was forced to mewl and moan in response as his sensitive nips were played with while Jake continued to direct the Hitachi wand vibrator to the squirming divorce attorney’s suit-panted crotch, the net result being that Chase was horrified to feel his traitorous “cunt-rammer” begin to respond and harden in the tight confines of his Giorgio Armani boxer briefs!
Worse, Mateo then began to slowly unbutton the shirt buttons of Chase’s designer dress shirt one-by-one, each time exposing more and more of their hunky victim’s gym-toned, suntanned and proudly furry chest, which had just the right amount of manly dark chest hair to emphasize the hyper-masculinity of their hunky, bound victim, Mateo now making direct contact with Chase’s ultrasensitive bare nips, eliciting further moans and mewls from Chase who could not help it, his nips were hard-wired to his crotch and only resulted in their victim throwing a major (and now quite evident) full-fledged, painful hard-on as their victim threw a major-league boner now painfully trapped and literally throbbing with desire in his fancy suit pants and Armani boxer briefs as Jake expertly directed the Hitachi wand vibrator all along its massive length and girth, making forays with the buzzing invader down over Chase’s suit-panted balls and underneath his crotch to goose against the crack of Forbes’ suit-panted ass and sacrosanct asshole area as well, causing Chase now to alternate moans, mewls, gasps, and sighs, as the duo began to play him like their deserving sexual marionette, and one who was literally beginning to drool from unbidden sexual arousal, unconsciously even sighing and thrusting his hips forward and back to hump against and make even more pleasant contact with the buzzing thing. Chase chalked this up to the fact that he had not actually gotten off in nearly a week but it was very disturbing that two men were able to force the buff, brazen high-powered divorce attorney to be beginning to act like some kind of whore in heat! This HAD to stop! If this kept up Chase realized he might even blow his massive load right in his fuckin’ fancy pants! (had the duo intended to let that happen, which they most certainly had no such intention of doing- no sexual relief for their victim just yet, only relentless teasing to the max!)
Chase’s reverie about a near climax was dashed, when, to his further horror, Mateo up above had suddenly ripped Chase’s designer shirt wide open and un-tucked it from his designer suit pants, using a handy scissors to finish the job by cutting up the lengths of the sleeves, leaving Chase’s hunky sun-tanned upper torso now completely naked as he hung in bondage, his sweaty, hairy armpits now dripping all the more with funky mansweat mingled with Chase’s failing antiperspirant and fading expensive cologne. Mateo then tossed the scissors to Jake who suddenly began to scissor right up the inseam of Chase’s expensive designer suit pants, to Chase’s outraged protests, more and more of his sun-tanned hairy legs and muscular, hairy thighs being revealed as their muscular length was slowly revealed, scissoring right through the waistband of the suit pants along with his designer leather belt whereupon the suit pants were whisked away altogether.
The duo laughed at the sight of Chase now clad only in his white Emporio Armani boxer briefs, his raging hard-on clearly evident as it lay trapped in their tight thin cotton confines, Chase again impotently protesting the indignity and ordering them to let him go, that he could pay megabucks, all to deaf ears.
Even worse, Chase next felt Jake actually scissoring through the Armani boxer briefs up first one side and then the other until the fabric gave way, Chase’s massive boner finally comically springing out and up at full, pulsating erection, Chase’s proudly hirsute dark pubic bush and hairy, swinging balls freed and totally exposed to the duo’s secretly impressed view, since it seemed Chase’s self-described and boasted-about “cunt-tamer” indeed lived up to its promised prowess and then some. The duo again silently exchanged glances and a wink at their newly unwrapped prize, once again their sweaty victim’s crotch emanating a distinctly masculine smell with only slight traces of Chase’s expensive body wash and cologne lingering, but fading, funky, hairy, man-crotch-smells beginning to win out.
Chase then heard some slight rustlings sounds he could not quite identify as a naked, bound Chase was left waiting and wondering once again.
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