by Peter Loaf
Two naked sisters, hung in the sun
Captives unhappy, the battle won
On edge they’re sitting
Pussy lips splitting
By Mongols conquered, pillage begun
Rattle the shackles, needing to scream
Pain of the angels, the terror dream
The treasure hidden
To tell forbidden
Ten Mongols waiting, cocks dripping cream
Gravity pulling, the sharpened edge
Their pussies splitting, the pressing wedge
Shudder buck hurting
Confession blurting
“The treasure buried, end of the hedge!”
The Mongols grinning, taking them down
Pussies exploding, agony found
Bound in a basket
A wicker casket
Two screaming sisters, sold by the pound
The Chieftain chuckles, his private joke
His hookah bubbles, taking a toke
Sexy slave subbies
Three little rubies
Fingers intruding, tickle and poke
The wicker opened, one lifted out
To cushions carried, ready to mount
Pussy lips dripping
Her nipple gripping
Twisting and pinching, pheromones fount
Arms bound in leather, legs folded tight
Helpless in harness, no way to fight
Face in the cushion
Ass in position
Thunder fuck coming, the Mongol’s right
