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duration 23:43
Meredith & DD R'Moan - Real Couple - Our First Consensual **** Scene - Struggle & Clothes-Tearing, Bound Wrists, Forced Orgasms & Face-Fucking, Squirting, Multiple Positions - Part 1 of 4 video from MeredithTourmaline
Meredith & DD R'Moan - Real Couple - Our First Consensual **** Scene - Struggle & Clothes-Tearing, Bound Wrists, Forced Orgasms & Face-Fucking, Squirting, Multiple Positions - Part 1 of 4 by MeredithTourmaline DD R'Moan and I get into some sexy trouble and roleplay together. I'm late for my job interview at the library, but DD won't let me leave. He wants to posses me. As I step toward the door, all dressed up in my brand new fuchsia blouse and grey wool pleated skirt, he grabs ahold of me and circumvents my escape. He pushes me back into bed, forces my boots off my feet, and starts ripping my clothes.

























































































































































































































































































































































































I don't just let it happen. I put up a fight. I beg him to let me leave. I can't be late. But he doesn't listen. He lifts my skirt and rips my black lace tights, revealing rose-pink lace underwear, which he pulls aside to finger-fuck me. It's tempting to stay - I don't want to admit how good this feels. I've got other things to do.

























































































































































































































































































































































































I struggle some more.

























































































































































































































































































































































































And then he unbuckles his belt.

























































































































































































































































































































































































I know what's next. As he lowers his tight jeans, old and faded and soft, I kiss his hard cock through his underwear, hoping to placate him. If I do this, will he let me go? My hot pink lipstick stains his underwear, his stomach, his thighs.

























































































































































































































































































































































































I'm a brat. When he removes his underwear, revealing his hard cock, I refuse. I reach for my mug of morning coffee and stare him down as I take long, slow sips. I make him wait. I frustrate him. I thwart his attempts to intimidate me.

























































































































































































































































































































































































But he splashes my coffee in my face and forces his dick down my throat anyway. He straddles me, weight on my chest, and face-fucks me, shoving his cock quicker and quicker. He chokes me, spanks me, pulls my hair. He tears my clothes some more, as I still refuse to take them off for him. He uses the cuffs of my torn-up blouse to bind my wrists.

























































































































































































































































































































































































And though I don't want to be here, he forces me to come.

























































































































































































































































































































































































I'll never make it to my interview at the library on time. I'll probably never make it at all. I am grouchy and petulant.

























































































































































































































































































































































































I've lost so much.

























































































































































































































































































































































































He fucks me in multiple positions. Sometimes I struggle, sometimes I give in. After all, it feels good. I don't want to admit it, but it does.

























































































































































































































































































































































































I moan in aggravated pleasure. DD makes me spread my legs for the camera, makes me squirt.

























































































































































































































































































































































































When will he let me leave?
duration 22:45
Hairy & Literary Goth Reads Jack Kerouac Aloud to You While Masturbating - Torn Pantyhose, Clit Stimulation, Magic Wand, Stripping video from MeredithTourmaline
Hairy & Literary Goth Reads Jack Kerouac Aloud to You While Masturbating - Torn Pantyhose, Clit Stimulation, Magic Wand, Stripping by MeredithTourmaline The best nights are the ones when we stay up all night reading to one another, telling personal stories, asking questions about the universe, and stimulating one another's minds... Not to mention our bodies. In this video, violet-haired goth sweetheart Meredith Tourmaline reads aloud to you from Jack Kerouac's Beat classic, 'On the Road'. Jack is staying up all night with Neal Cassady, aka Dean Moriarty... The brilliance of being alive, of feeling and traveling and doing and talking. The dream, the escape, the road. Meredith Tourmaline is seen on the hardwood floor, book open almost as wide as her legs. She is half-dressed when you arrive, wearing torn black tights, a t-shirt printed with the first cover of Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar, pale plum underwear, and black garter with straps. As she reads, she rubs her clit through her underwear, her golden-strawberry untrimmed pubic hair showing through the edges. She removed her black t-shirt to reveal a pale pink lace bra gracing her small, soft tits. Then she takes out her Magic Wand, making her body shiver and shake, smiling with pleasure. She pulls her underwear aside to show you her wet pussy, and you want to reach out... The vintage paperback lays flat between her hairy legs. She peels off her lace bra and plays with her small tits, her pale and erect nipples. The Hitachi cord wraps itself between her toes... Her whole body quivers, and she's almost screaming... Come spend the night...
duration 19:39
Literary Nymphomania - Meredith Masturbates, Comes, & Squirts (Multiple Times!) While Reading Aloud about the Mad Wives of Famous Writers video from MeredithTourmaline
Literary Nymphomania - Meredith Masturbates, Comes, & Squirts (Multiple Times!) While Reading Aloud about the Mad Wives of Famous Writers by MeredithTourmaline A different kind of book porn! Have you ever wanted to have a manic and sexy affair with someone who'll read to you in bed, read to you while you masturbate, read to you while you fuck? Let me seduce you as I strip while reading to you about the lives of the mad wives who became muses to the male literary figures of modernism. Let me be your mistress, your muse, yours.







































































































































































































































































































































































































In 'Heroines' by Kate Zambreno, published by Semiotext(e), the author describes her feelings of both helplessness and desire as she marries a writer and finds herself following him from town-to-town for teaching gigs, ignoring her own needs, and researching the archives of all the mad literary wives who came before her.







































































































































































































































































































































































































A one-handed read, stories printed on pages smeared with lipstick and cum. A dramatic but playful reading, bringing myself to orgasm as I read about the author's fantasies of affairs, of sexual awakenings, of her own sticky pages in library books. I slooowly get naked as I read. Watch me cum as I read about poetry, and squirt as I read about Anaïs Nin's infamous diaries and erotica. Moaning, shuddering, even almost weeping as I tell you about the desire to be studied like a literary character, to be psychoanalyzed, and to be the psychoanalyst, too; on idealizing the apparently open marriages of modernism; and the search for a way to be free, to be an artist, to be art itself.
duration 12:40
GFE - Bedtime. Your Girlfriend Had A Stressful Day & All She Wants is to Get Naked, Be Admired, and Tell You About the Book She's Reading as You Fall **** Beside Her video from MeredithTourmaline
GFE - Bedtime. Your Girlfriend Had A Stressful Day & All She Wants is to Get Naked, Be Admired, and Tell You About the Book She's Reading as You Fall **** Beside Her by MeredithTourmaline She dressed up. She wore her special lipstick, Red Revolution, her red barrettes, and black lace panties & bra under her dress. Leopard-print tights. She shaved her legs. She went to the café to meet a new client. You were hopeful - you know this work brings her pleasure and meaning, that she's fascinated by everybody she meets, curious about their stories, their bodies, their desires - even their insecurities. Especially their insecurities. You've been dating for a while and you're impressed by her perceptive ideas, her active listening skills... Her presence. No matter how many others she's with, you know that when she's with you, she's *only* with you.





















































































































































































































































































































You have her devoted attention. And she wants yours, too.





















































































































































































































































































































She's had a stressful day. She was stood up at the café. Each time somebody entered, she looked up from the book she was reading, snuck a surreptitious glance toward the door, wondered, 'Is this him?'





















































































































































































































































































































As time passed, she realized what was happening. She felt embarrassed to have saved the second chair at her table when others had wanted to sit down. But she felt calm, too. Reading a short story collection, eavesdropping on the conversations around her. When she came home, you were there, waiting for her, all tucked into her bed. You've been sleeping over more often.





















































































































































































































































































































She gets into bed with you and tells you about her day, about being stood up. She wants you to comfort her. She's reading Hellgoing by Lynn Coady, hoping she can write with such skill and detail, with such insight and sensitivity. Someday. There's a story she read, An Otherworld, and she tells you about it, she related to it and thinks you'd appreciate the story - a girl who's become self-deprecating about a previous relationship, about her idealization of a Kurt Cobain lookalike who she ran away to the forest with, and who one day came home and listed everything he disliked about her, and then left.





















































































































































































































































































































You're falling asleep. She hopes you'll read the story in the morning. Maybe she'll read it to you out loud over coffee, after morning sex.





















































































































































































































































































































She strips slowly, lifting her dress, lowering her tights. Dances a little to tease you. You want to touch her, but you're so tired, buried under blankets while she stands beside the bed, revealing more and more skin, her tattoos, her small tits that you love to hold while she curls into you, a little spoon. She watches you while she dances. Looks you in the eye. Mopes a little.





















































































































































































































































































































When she's naked, she gets into bed with you. She's so glad you're spending the night, so glad you appreciate listening to the rambling thoughts and feelings of this bookish weirdo. As she reaches toward the lamp to darken the room, she kisses you, and you reach for her soft, pale flesh, the curves of her wide hips, and you hold her close, hoping she'll never slip away.
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