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Amile Water's white boyfriend told her she could cut the costs of satellite radio and thus get Sirius on her haircurlers. Believing that she could actually do this, Emile adjusted her head and tweaked her ears, just like the way kids used to do with crystal radios back in the Nineteen Whatevers. Nothing happened expect the fact that Amile could now open the garage door with her nose. Which is not a bad thing, come to think of it. But when Amile's boyfriend came home it was another story. She was mad. She reached for her strap-on. Revenge was the only thing on her mind. That, and getting better FM reception from her car bumper.
Delilah had a hard day at the dungeon. So when she came home that evening, she was in the mood for a refreshing cocktail. But Delilah soon discovered that her boyfriend had used the ice tongs for an intimate sexual experience involving his asshole and forgot to wash them. Which got her slightly pissed as she picked some questionably smelly hairs off of the bar implement. No questions were asked. No accusations made. Delilah just glared at him like the endless harsh shores of hell, and from his experience with that, her boyfriend knew just what to do. There had been many evenings like this in which his tortured balls screamed for relief. The scenario, for now, involved a mask, a ball gag and some serious nipple clamps. But this was only foreplay. Other tricks would come and his semen-scented underwear smells would soon fill the house. There was the perfect engine of justice in store and it would soon go deep in his ass.