Archive of Our Own beta

After being discharged from the Army, young, lost and impressionable John McTavish is initiated into a cult that worships a violent and dark extraterrestrial god called Ghost. One night, alone in his garden, Thorpe is asked to prove his devotion to the otherworldly creature.

Notes:

• For Saturnalis.

Check out this dubcon tag. You already know my monster side. Everyone is having fun, but no real discussion of consent occurs on screen, and Thorpe is a bit put off by the fact that ritual herbs and an actual god are standing there.

Also, the motif of sacrificial animals continues to be used, with a lot of blood and carnage depicted as metaphors. If you're particularly sensitive about that, this might not be for you! No actual animals are harmed on screen (except for Thorpe, who likes Thorpe).

(See the end of the film for more warnings).

Work Text:

It's not unusual for Thorpe to be alone at night like this. Honestly, he prefers it that way.

There is a calmness that is not present during the day, when the other members are going about their daily work and attending church services. Of course, he has always been a sociable type, and he enjoys their company. But he also values ​​time alone, away from the prying eyes and suspicions of others.

The monastery is a vast complex of several dark stone buildings around a central courtyard, where about 80 men live in bunkhouses and pray in the temple. As secular religions go, his order is not the strictest. Apart from the uniform robes, there are no particular restrictions on grooming. He is allowed to keep his distinctive hairstyle, and the others dye their hair and wear piercings. But they adhere to a strict routine, with an emphasis on self-improvement, prayer, and worship through physical labor.

When Thorpe first joined, he didn't know what to expect. He had just been discharged with a serious injury that left him with a crippled leg and chronic pain, and he was angry and lonely. Trained only in violent submission and used to communal housing, the doctrine was appealing. In exchange for the food, shelter and support he was provided, all he had to offer was his unwavering devotion to an extraterrestrial god of death and destruction.

Initially, he thought it was like modern devil worship, not really believing in the devil, just following his rules to live. The siblings focused on being ashamed of their friendship, preparing for the end, the beauty of bloodshed, and the primitive and intuitive emotions. All of them could agree, and there was no resistance to turning uniforms into robe.

But he apparently proved that he was a true believer without effort. They called him a "potential conductor." The elders told him that he was their god, the ghost, with the unknown dark energy, and what worshipers wanted. He was told to attend a special worship at midnight, not a normal night prayer. It was an honor among brothers, and he spent the remaining time of the day, surrounded by a whispering voice and jealousy from others.

He was expecting something like a younger holiday mass. It was one step further than a normal Sunday worship with a special message and a latinian chant of a lion that swinging incense.

Instead, he was naked, was laid down on a cold stone altar, prayed that he was not a human being, was exposed to blood, sucked a medicinal herb, and other priests with skulls. In addition, the black candle wax was cast while hanging on the skin. One day, the memory became ambiguous, and what he really gained from this experience is the knowledge that this experience is much more serious than the initially contracted, and the feeling that something he does not understand. Ta. He was not completely convinced that this was not a drug trip, but at least he was more conscious of the people here.

That night, whatever they expected from him, he passed brilliantly and was given the priest. The brown robe was replaced by black and white piping, but their sect did not have a mask, which is a proof of hyperst. He sometimes instructed worship, but he spent most of his time in the library, reads ancient books, compared modern tragedy with their scripture, and associated with the assumed visits and real disasters. I was found. < Span> Initially, he thought it was like modern devil worship, not really believing in the devil, just following his rules to live. The siblings focused on being ashamed of their friendship, preparing for the end, the beauty of bloodshed, and the primitive and intuitive emotions. All of them could agree, and there was no resistance to turning uniforms into robe.

But he apparently proved that he was a true believer without effort. They called him a "potential conductor." The elders told him that he was their god, the ghost, with the unknown dark energy, and what worshipers wanted. He was told to attend a special worship at midnight, not a normal night prayer. It was an honor among brothers, and he spent the remaining time of the day, surrounded by a whispering voice and jealousy from others.

He was expecting something like a younger holiday mass. It was one step further than a normal Sunday worship with a special message and a latinian chant of a lion that swinging incense.

Instead, he was naked, was laid down on a cold stone altar, prayed that he was not a human being, was exposed to blood, sucked a medicinal herb, and other priests with skulls. In addition, the black candle wax was cast while hanging on the skin. One day, the memory became ambiguous, and what he really gained from this experience is the knowledge that this experience is much more serious than the initially contracted, and the feeling that something he does not understand. Ta. He was not completely convinced that this was not a drug trip, but at least he was more conscious of the people here.

That night, what they expected from him, he passed and was given the priest. The brown robe was replaced by black and white piping, but their sect did not have a mask, which is a proof of hyperst. He sometimes instructed worship, but he spent most of his time in the library, reads ancient books, compared modern tragedy with their scripture, and associated with the assumed visits and real disasters. I was found. Initially, he thought it was like modern devil worship, not really believing in the devil, just following his rules to live. The siblings focused on being ashamed of their friendship, preparing for the end, the beauty of bloodshed, and the primitive and intuitive emotions. All of them could agree, and there was no resistance to turning uniforms into robe.

But he apparently proved that he was a true believer without effort. They called him a "potential conductor." The elders told him that he was their god, the ghost, with the unknown dark energy, and what worshipers wanted. He was told to attend a special worship at midnight, not a normal night prayer. It was an honor among brothers, and he spent the remaining time of the day, surrounded by a whispering voice and jealousy from others.

He was expecting something like a younger holiday mass. It was one step further than a normal Sunday worship with a special message and a latinian chant of a lion that swinging incense.

Instead, he was naked, was laid down on a cold stone altar, prayed that he was not a human being, was exposed to blood, sucked a medicinal herb, and other priests with skulls. In addition, the black candle wax was cast while hanging on the skin. One day, the memory became ambiguous, and what he really gained from this experience is the knowledge that this experience is much more serious than the initially contracted, and the feeling that something he does not understand. Ta. He was not completely convinced that this was not a drug trip, but at least he was more conscious of the people here.

That night, whatever they expected from him, he passed brilliantly and was given the priest. The brown robe was replaced by black and white piping, but their sect did not have a mask, which is a proof of hyperst. He sometimes instructed worship, but he spent most of his time in the library, reads ancient books, compared modern tragedy with their scripture, and associated with the assumed visits and real disasters. I was found.

Therefore, the early morning before dawn is the only time before the midnight worship is over and the chores and study of the day are started. In this way, he is now relaxing on the bench and practicing sketches for lines and nocturnal flowers that bloom around the fountain using the full moon light.

Suddenly, the light disappears completely, a deep fear attacks his chest, and the nape of hair is upside down to the feeling of being monitored, and fine sweats are bleeding in the temple. There are many people in such a closed space and many monitoring eyes. The instinct that responds to that feeling is sharpened by military service. It looks like he's almost unaware of its change, but he's inner mind to attack from behind.

In the dark, I never thought I could hear a deep hone y-like voice, as if I was behind and around me. "You don't have to be nervous, priest." It's a cheeky tone, as if it was interesting to surprise him.

The frowned soap stood up and turned to the surveillance while holding both hands on his fist. Immediately corrected the posture and turned the gaze down.

Father Riley, a high priest who came to Japan from a British sister temple. Father Riley stayed with two other British monasteries for several weeks, enjoyed translated documents and Scotland rural landscapes, drank whiskey with temples leaders and share knowledge. Ta.

"I'm sorry. I didn't expect people to come at such a time."

Another man is tall, towering more than most humans in the knights, with black eyes and solid physique. He stands behind the soap and is blocking the moon. He was the only one who saw the soap did not wear a mask. Usually, masks can only be given at preaching, but may be different in British temples. However, the soap is interested in this priest's ugly past and criminal history, so that he would hide in the shadow of his status in the demonstration and join the brothers.

Father Riley sings a humming song and goes around the bench and stands near the soap. Despite the dangerous signs of Lily Father, the soap believes that the surprising adrenaline remains. < SPAN> The early morning before dawn is one of the time before midnight worship and before starting the chores and study of the day. In this way, he is now relaxing on the bench and practicing sketches for lines and nocturnal flowers that bloom around the fountain using the full moon light.

Suddenly, the light disappears completely, a deep fear attacks his chest, and the nape of hair is upside down to the feeling of being monitored, and fine sweats are bleeding in the temple. There are many people in such a closed space and many monitoring eyes. The instinct that responds to that feeling is sharpened by military service. It looks like he's almost unaware of its change, but he's inner mind to attack from behind.

In the dark, I never thought I could hear a deep hone y-like voice, as if I was behind and around me. "You don't have to be nervous, priest." It's a cheeky tone, as if it was interesting to surprise him.

The frowned soap stood up and turned to the surveillance while holding both hands on his fist. Immediately corrected the posture and turned the gaze down.

Father Riley, a high priest who came to Japan from a British sister temple. Father Riley stayed with two other British monasteries for several weeks, enjoyed translated documents and Scotland rural landscapes, drank whiskey with temples leaders and share knowledge. Ta.

"I'm sorry. I didn't expect people to come at such a time."

Another man is tall, towering more than most humans in the knights, with black eyes and solid physique. He stands behind the soap and is blocking the moon. He was the only one who saw the soap did not wear a mask. Usually, masks can only be given at preaching, but may be different in British temples. However, the soap is interested in this priest's ugly past and criminal history, so that he would hide in the shadow of his status in the demonstration and join the brothers.

Father Riley sings a humming song and goes around the bench and stands near the soap. Despite the dangerous signs of Lily Father, the soap believes that the surprising adrenaline remains. Therefore, the early morning before dawn is the only time before the midnight worship is over and the chores and study of the day are started. In this way, he is now relaxing on the bench and practicing sketches for lines and nocturnal flowers that bloom around the fountain using the full moon light.

Suddenly, the light disappears completely, a deep fear attacks his chest, and the nape of hair is upside down to the feeling of being monitored, and fine sweats are bleeding in the temple. There are many people in such a closed space and many monitoring eyes. The instinct that responds to that feeling is sharpened by military service. It looks like he's almost unaware of its change, but he's inner mind to attack from behind.

In the dark, I never thought I could hear a deep hone y-like voice, as if I was behind and around me. "You don't have to be nervous, priest." It's a cheeky tone, as if it was interesting to surprise him.

The frowned soap stood up and turned to the surveillance while holding both hands on his fist. Immediately corrected the posture and turned the gaze down.

Father Riley, a high priest who came to Japan from a British sister temple. Father Riley stayed with two other British monasteries for several weeks, enjoyed translated documents and Scotland rural landscapes, drank whiskey with temples leaders and share knowledge. Ta.

"I'm sorry. I didn't expect people to come at such a time."

Another man is tall, towering more than most humans in the knights, with black eyes and solid physique. He stands behind the soap and is blocking the moon. He was the only one who saw the soap did not wear a mask. Usually, masks can only be given at preaching, but may be different in British temples. However, the soap is interested in this priest's ugly past and criminal history, so that he would hide in the shadow of his status in the demonstration and join the brothers.

Father Riley sings a humming song and goes around the bench and stands near the soap. Despite the dangerous signs of Lily Father, the soap believes that the surprising adrenaline remains.

"So how do you think about this?" Riley speaks, spreads his gloves and waves to the garden and the temple beyond.

After a few seconds, the shadows seem to grow further. It doesn't look like a soap, but there is a curiosity light in the eyes of the Daji Festival. The bed and the library feel like a creature staring at him in the dark. Even insects and owls were silent in the weight of the question.

"I know the courtyard? I know it's wrong, but I want to deny it.

"The Knights? He approaches a step closer, exaggerates the height difference, and blocks the light." Are you just like other people? Do you love God?

"Of course! I'm a guru, someday I will be a great priest. The cult is my life and lives to serve a big youkai." He died the dialogue that he swore when he entered many years ago. He can determine the hesitation as not a hidden suspicion, but a tension.

Father Riley had a cold and cruel smile, and before the soap was questioning that the skull mask was distorted by a smile, the night became even darker, confused soap, and caused dizziness. "Okay. Prove.

Something reaches in inside him, and a strong pressure as if he had grabbed his heart and lungs with cold nails.

When I woke up, it took a long time for my head to stop. My chest hurts due to lack of oxygen, falling into a cobblestone and hurts my knees. The cold stains on the naked back and trembles, and when I noticed that I was naked and on a cobblestone, I suddenly got up.

He curled up a little for warmth and modesty, straightening himself, scanning his surroundings for signs of his attacker. Though the Brotherhood was fairly accepting of gender and sexuality, he still didn't feel comfortable being exposed like this. The temple was surprisingly bright, with black candles in all the candlesticks and dozens of candles scattered in concentric circles on the floor. The baptismal font was full, dripping with fresh blood that had pooled around the edge. The altar on which he sat lacked its usual velvet covering, instead decorated with bunches of strongly scented herbs, strategically placed around him.

Despite the closed doors, a breeze blew through the temple, flickering the candles and softly ringing the ritual chimes and bells. Shadows shifted in the light. A nondescript black mass remained as motionless as the others, and Soap's eyes locked on it. He doesn't have a dagger, but he can throw punches and yell for help if necessary.

"Who's there? Father Riley? What's wrong?"

The high priest's voice came from somewhere to Soap's left, not near the suspicious shadow. "You're asking too many questions for a supposedly pious person."

"I believe in God, not the man who knocked me unconscious and stripped me."

The voice came from directly behind Soap, this time, close enough to feel the air on his sticky skin. "This body has been a man's for a long time.

"Who am I speaking to if not Father Riley?"

A voice came from somewhere above, near the rafters. "Simon was a guru like you, centuries ago. But he failed his final test of faith, and as punishment I have taken his form, convenient for visiting my flock." Footsteps click in front of me, but I can't see them on the stone. "If you fail, what shall I take from you, little man?"

The shadow finally moved. With lightning speed, it spread dark tendrils across the grout lines of the marble tiles, circling the base of the altar in intricate runes before solidifying before his eyes.

The form is humanoid in the vaguest sense, but it wavers and glitches like a delayed video call, with static edges and varying levels of opacity, and no discernible limbs. Where a face should be, it's somehow an infinite void and at the same time a recognizable skull shape. It's like trying to mix two different kinds of paint together; it's hard to tell them apart, but they're not quite blended. Some shimmer like an oil slick, others are almost like thick smoke. Eyes and mouths appear and disappear in the blink of an eye, and whenever Thorpe tries to focus too long on any particular detail, his vision blurs and darkens. He's told that the ghostly forms are "incomprehensible," but he assumes that means they're gigantic, not something that a poor human mind can literally see and comprehend.

The air in the temple is hazy, humid, and thick with the smoke of hundreds of candles and the incense he's lit on his slivers. His senses are overwhelmed, and he enters a state of meek frustration that would normally embarrass him.

But he recognized the feeling. The same feeling he had had at his initiation. A blur, a tingling, a contradictory stream of consciousness. The ghost had always been there, watching him presented like a lamb to the slaughter. The ghost had always been there, and now it was here before him again. This reality should have frightened him even more, but instead it brought him a strange calm. Acceptance, yes, but also pride. His god was real, hungry, and dark, and he had come to Thorpe of all places.

He was suddenly determined not to fail like the real Father Riley.

He knelt boldly, locking eyes with the god standing before him. "Take whatever you want, I am ready to serve."

The ghost's misty form darted forward, circling him as if to gauge him, sometimes taking logical steps, sometimes jumping instantly to unexpected places. "Whatever you offer as tribute, I'll take it. I can disgrace you. I can take your mind. I can kill you by taking your heart.

Thorpe exhaled slowly, steadied himself, and lowered his accent so that his words would ring clearly throughout the empty stone hall. "I believe in the doctrine I teach and the God who demands it of us. If you choose to destroy me, I will die in your service.

Smoky hands wrap around Soap's jaw, sharp claws slicing through his butter-thin skin. The cold, wet fingers are almost imperceptible, but the claws are very real. Soap's blood runs warm and sticky down his throat and pools at his collarbone.

For a split second, Soap stares into whiskey-colored eyes. The next, he's staring out into the vastness of space, distant galaxies twinkling with ancient, endless space storms. The next, he's looking down at himself from somewhere above, at his knees and the dark emptiness before him.

Then, he's back inside, burning with emotions he can't understand.

"I know what I want from you, Johnny."

Soap answered breathlessly, willingly plunging deeper into the scalpel-sharp fingers that held his face as he spoke. He didn't remember telling the high priest his name, but of course his god knew it. "Say it, Ghost. It's yours."

The dark span of the Ghost's face doesn't move, but for some reason Soap can see the god grinning.

Instead of responding with words, the Ghost's claws unsheathed their skin and the whole arm shook and retreated, turning into something harder. There were no hands, just smooth, black, opaque limbs that glowed with some kind of liquid and tapered to a point. Tentacles were the closest thing Soap could think of, but they were inflexible and had no suction cups. But something eldritch monstrosity pressed firmly against the center of his chest, laying him face-up on the stone altar, and...

He slightly blushes his face, swallows hard and falls back, and forcibly opens his legs on the cold, adhesive pseudo tactacles that springs out of the floor. The feeling is reminiscent of a cold candle, but it is somewhat like steel, and it is even more confusing.

A shar k-like smile came to the ghost's face for a moment. It seemed to have a mouth for a moment, and there was a tooth that could not fit in its mouth.

From the marble groundline, there are tentacles of various hoses, such as purple, black, and unpleasant green. But at the same time, it looks like the color of the universe, the rare bird wings of the universe, and the leather still wet gloss. He realized that it was the essence of ghost. Beautiful and intense contradiction. Fear and acceptance, greed and sacrifice, the altar blood and the delicate white flower blooming along the wall of the temple.

The ghost translucent mass floats like ink in the water, shakes, and its voice is still out of nowhere. Goosebumps stand as if the ice touched.

"It's a cute lamb. I want to tear my throat."

The soap makes his eyes squeezed and tilts his head with swea t-fledged carotid artery. The ghost laughed happily, and the sound shakes the dust from the trend of the temple and shakes the stained glass window. It's a wonderful, terrible sound. However, if the ankle and wrist are tightened and the inner thighs are stroked, they cannot concentrate on it.

Tentacles give birth to him and keep winding. One around the waist, the tip of the tapered tip traces the chest. It is a low and heavy support of the collarbone around the neck. One is thin and dexterous, stroked the cheeks and pierced the lips. The two twins are wrapped around the calf on the right of his right, like a choking ivy beside the library.

Soap lost a little time. During the blinks, he turned his position in front of him, flew his body in a deep arched type, turned his palm forward, bent his knees, spread, and bowed perfectly. The bad knees bite into the marble and ache, but thanks to the incense, the sensation remains dull.

The ghost expresses the wandering of the soap's heart with hiss noise, and as if the ghost had actually reached his brain to remove his thoughts, somewhere in the soap brain substance. With a pain spike, he erased the memory of the false savior. Soap speaks the words of apology, deepens his back, moves his weight, and whispered one of the first hymns he learned to enter the cult. It pleases the ghost, and the ghost returns to almost a gentle exploration.

His figure melts and changes, and the tall humanoid shape itself collapses on its own, and splits into tentacles. It feels like a cold water after the mint.

The thin tentacle moved under the bowing chest, and the moment it touched the nipple, the soap raised a surprise. Other tentacles are smooth and smooth, but this tentacle is lightly like a cat's tongue. The other is a little thicker but cold like ice, slips on the flank, blizes on the ribs, and makes goose bumps.

Most of the ghost concentration was deprived of these two small things, so the ghost did not notice that the large center was moving until the wrinkle of the inner thigh was moving. The ghost silent him, but it was not particularly kind. It resembled the sound of the butcher out before the scared animal's throat was cut, and the tentacles, who were exploring his mouth, ended up being persistent until he endured and closed his mouth. < SPAN> Soap lost a little time. During the blinks, he turned his position in front of him, flew his body in a deep arched type, turned his palm forward, bent his knees, spread, and bowed perfectly. The bad knees bite into the marble and ache, but thanks to the incense, the sensation remains dull.

The ghost expresses the wandering of the soap's heart with hiss noise, and as if the ghost had actually reached his brain to remove his thoughts, somewhere in the soap brain substance. With a pain spike, he erased the memory of the false savior. Soap speaks the words of apology, deepens his back, moves his weight, and whispered one of the first hymns he learned to enter the cult. It pleases the ghost, and the ghost returns to almost a gentle exploration.

His figure melts and changes, and the tall humanoid shape itself collapses on its own, and splits into tentacles. It feels like a cold water after the mint.

The thin tentacle moved under the bowing chest, and the moment it touched the nipple, the soap raised a surprise. Other tentacles are smooth and smooth, but this tentacle is lightly like a cat's tongue. The other is a little thicker but cold like ice, slips on the flank, blizes on the ribs, and makes goose bumps.

Most of the ghost concentration was deprived of these two small things, so the ghost did not notice that the large center was moving until the wrinkle of the inner thigh was moving. The ghost silent him, but it was not particularly kind. It resembled the sound of the butcher out before the scared animal's throat was cut, and the tentacles, who were exploring his mouth, ended up being persistent until he endured and closed his mouth. Soap lost a little time. During the blinks, he turned his position in front of him, flew his body in a deep arched type, turned his palm forward, bent his knees, spread, and bowed perfectly. The bad knees bite into the marble and ache, but thanks to the incense, the sensation remains dull.

The ghost expresses the wandering of the soap's heart with hiss noise, and as if the ghost had actually reached his brain to remove his thoughts, somewhere in the soap brain substance. With a pain spike, he erased the memory of the false savior. Soap speaks the words of apology, deepens his back, moves his weight, and whispered one of the first hymns he learned to enter the cult. It pleases the ghost, and the ghost returns to almost a gentle exploration.

His figure melts and changes, and the tall humanoid shape itself collapses on its own, and splits into tentacles. It feels like a cold water after the mint.

The thin tentacle moved under the bowing chest, and the moment it touched the nipple, the soap raised a surprise. Other tentacles are smooth and smooth, but this tentacle is lightly like a cat's tongue. The other is a little thicker but cold like ice, slips on the flank, blizes on the ribs, and makes goose bumps.

Most of the ghost concentration was deprived of these two small things, so the ghost did not notice that the large center was moving until the wrinkle of the inner thigh was moving. The ghost silent him, but it was not particularly kind. It resembled the sound of the butcher out before the scared animal's throat was cut, and the tentacles, who were exploring his mouth, ended up being persistent until he endured and closed his mouth.

The taste is indescribable, soil, sweet, and spices. Bergamot tea, cassis jam, acorn, smoked meat, and the esoteric memory of starry sky observation as a boyhood, the scorched plastic pathological smell, and somehow the texture of wax. The sympathy of trying to analyze it only clouds his brain further and degrades him into God's containment. The tentacles are slim and flexible, reaching much more deep in the throat than the soap imagined without causing pharyngeal reflexes. His body and brain are limited, as it fits in his mouth as a physical weight, applies the tongue and teeth, and sucks milk like a baby. You can be hunted down.

When he settled down again, the tentacles that rubbed his legs began to move again, except that they could not hold down in response to the two tentacles tampered with their chests. Move up to slip through. When the tip of the tentacle hits his penis and screams, he groans the tentacles in his mouth while crackling his eyelids. He reacts almost instantly to his slimy substance painted on the most sensitive part, panting, twisting himself, and even getting wet with his expectations and expectations. I can't concentrate enough to feel embarrassed by the feeling I feel.

Things like hand, but smok e-like, pushing his scapula firmly, and the tentacles stabilize him several times. The smooth roun d-trip exercise spreads him greatly, mixing two body fluids until the altar under the thighs gets glitter.

Then the angle changes with the next thrust, and the tentacles bite into the pussy of the soap. It is a long, solid, constant stroke, forcing the soap body to accept it. The sound he leaks is not human, nothing but animal instinct. The ghost sounds like the ghost vibrate his skull so that the ghost responds. < SPAN> The taste is indescribable, soil, sweet, spices. Bergamot tea, cassis jam, acorn, smoked meat, and the esoteric memory of starry sky observation as a boyhood, the scorched plastic pathological smell, and somehow the texture of wax. The sympathy of trying to analyze it only clouds his brain further and degrades him into God's containment. The tentacles are slim and flexible, reaching much more deep in the throat than the soap imagined without causing pharyngeal reflexes. His body and brain are limited, as it fits in his mouth as a physical weight, applies the tongue and teeth, and sucks milk like a baby. You can be hunted down.

When he settled down again, the tentacles that rubbed his legs began to move again, except that they could not hold down in response to the two tentacles tampered with their chests. Move up to slip through. When the tip of the tentacle hits his penis and screams, he groans the tentacles in his mouth while crackling his eyelids. He reacts almost instantly to his slimy substance painted on the most sensitive part, panting, twisting himself, and even getting wet with his expectations and expectations. I can't concentrate enough to feel embarrassed by the feeling I feel.

Things like hand, but smok e-like, pushing his scapula firmly, and the tentacles stabilize him several times. The smooth roun d-trip exercise spreads him greatly, mixing two body fluids until the altar under the thighs gets glitter.

Then the angle changes with the next thrust, and the tentacles bite into the pussy of the soap. It is a long, solid, constant stroke, forcing the soap body to accept it. The sound he leaks is not human, nothing but animal instinct. The ghost sounds like the ghost vibrate his skull so that the ghost responds. The taste is indescribable, soil, sweet, and spices. Bergamot tea, cassis jam, acorn, smoked meat, and the esoteric memory of starry sky observation as a boyhood, the scorched plastic pathological smell, and somehow the texture of wax. The sympathy of trying to analyze it only clouds his brain further and degrades him into God's containment. The tentacles are slim and flexible, reaching much more deep in the throat than the soap imagined without causing pharyngeal reflexes. His body and brain are limited, as it fits in his mouth as a physical weight, applies the tongue and teeth, and sucks milk like a baby. You can be hunted down.

When he settled down again, the tentacles that rubbed his legs began to move again, except that they could not hold down in response to the two tentacles tampered with their chests. Move up to slip through. When the tip of the tentacle hits his penis and screams, he groans the tentacles in his mouth while crackling his eyelids. He reacts almost instantly to his slimy substance painted on the most sensitive part, panting, twisting himself, and even getting wet with his expectations and expectations. I can't concentrate enough to feel embarrassed by the feeling I feel.

Things like hand, but smok e-like, pushing his scapula firmly, and the tentacles stabilize him several times. The smooth roun d-trip exercise spreads him greatly, mixing two body fluids until the altar under the thighs gets glitter.

Then the angle changes with the next thrust, and the tentacles bite into the pussy of the soap. It is a long, solid, constant stroke, forcing the soap body to accept it. The sound he leaks is not human, nothing but animal instinct. The ghost sounds like the ghost vibrate his skull so that the ghost responds.

Ghost's tentacles begin to engrave a rhythm that rolls deeply without giving time to get used to the soap. Another small, rough tentacle wraps around his thighs, pulls black hair, and the tip of the barbed wire is already sensitive with another tentacle oil. When I found it, the soap screamed.

"Ghost tweeted to Husky with affection." Can you really take anything you want? "

The soap is restrained and struggled to nod in a filled state, but the ghost seems to be living in the mind of soap, not the body, so he can clearly understand his intentions.

Notes:

He is easy to leave himself to pleasure, fill, warm, overwhelming, and ghosts are perfect for ghosts and gaining prayers. The first orgasm comes immediately and rushes like a tide. Ghost did not even show the overlooking the priests apart.

When the soap settles, the tentacles of the pussy retreat, the limbs return to the tied up, and the breathing stabilizes. The soap moaned by its loss, and he became unknown how to live in his god, and the other tentacle of the ghost laughed again. "It's not over yet, Johnny. It's a greedy guy."

Series this work belongs to:

• The lightly treated soap bled, but shortly after reply, a new large tentacle grabbed the soap instead of the tentacles in front. The first thing was as wide as average dick, but this thing was quite thick, and was helped by a large amount of wet and body relaxation after the orgasm while resisting the resistance of the wall. The dull tip was familiar to deep, stroked the cervix, was pulled back, and was inserted again without regret. < SPAN> Ghost's tentacles do not give time to get used to the soap, and begin to cut a rhythm that rolls deeply. Another small, rough tentacle wraps around his thighs, pulls black hair, and the tip of the barbed wire is already sensitive with another tentacle oil. When I found it, the soap screamed.

8 Compelling Reasons to Focus on Skin Health Carefully

"Ghost tweeted to Husky with affection." Can you really take anything you want? "

1. Prevent Skin Diseases

The soap is restrained and struggled to nod in a filled state, but the ghost seems to be living in the mind of soap, not the body, so he can clearly understand his intentions.

• He is easy to leave himself to pleasure, fill, warm, overwhelming, and ghosts are perfect for ghosts and gaining prayers. The first orgasm comes immediately and rushes like a tide. Ghost did not even show the overlooking the priests apart.
• When the soap settles, the tentacles of the pussy retreat, the limbs return to the tied up, and the breathing stabilizes. The soap moaned by its loss, and he became unknown how to live in his god, and the other tentacle of the ghost laughed again. "It's not over yet, Johnny. It's a greedy guy."
• The lightly treated soap bled, but shortly after reply, a new large tentacle grabbed the soap instead of the tentacles in front. The first thing was as wide as average dick, but this thing was quite thick, and was helped by a large amount of wet and body relaxation after the orgasm while resisting the resistance of the wall. The dull tip was familiar to deep, stroked the cervix, was pulled back, and was inserted again without regret. Ghost's tentacles begin to engrave a rhythm that rolls deeply without giving time to get used to the soap. Another small, rough tentacle wraps around his thighs, pulls black hair, and the tip of the barbed wire is already sensitive with another tentacle oil. When I found it, the soap screamed.
• "Ghost tweeted to Husky with affection." Can you really take anything you want? "
• The soap is restrained and struggled to nod in a filled state, but the ghost seems to be living in the mind of soap, not the body, so he can clearly understand his intentions.

He is easy to leave himself to pleasure, fill, warm, overwhelming, and ghosts are perfect for ghosts and gaining prayers. The first orgasm comes immediately and rushes like a tide. Ghost did not even show the overlooking the priests apart.

2. Protect Premature Aging

When the soap settles, the tentacles of the pussy retreat, the limbs return to the tied up, and the breathing stabilizes. The soap moaned by its loss, and he became unknown how to live in his god, and the other tentacle of the ghost laughed again. "It's not over yet, Johnny. It's a greedy guy."

The lightly treated soap bled, but shortly after reply, a new large tentacle grabbed the soap instead of the tentacles in front. The first thing was as wide as average dick, but this thing was quite thick, and was helped by a large amount of wet and body relaxation after the orgasm while resisting the resistance of the wall. The dull tip was familiar to deep, stroked the cervix, was pulled back, and was inserted again without regret.

3. Maintains Skin Barrier Function

While sucking on the tentacles on the mouth, he breathes in and raises his ludation when spitting out. He is waving on the tentacles of the barbed wire, which is still moving the penis. I don't know if the lubricating oil there is dry and becomes more conscious of the feel, or wants to escape from the irritability, or if you want to make sure you don't feel the tentacles in your belly.

4. Boosts Self-Confidence

Anyway, his body has been able to catch a painful pleasure on an onslaught. His desires to please God are as strong as the inseparable binding wrapped around his limbs.

At first, he did not notice, but his tentacles in his mouth steadily expanded, reached deep in his throat, and stretched his chin further. When you notice it, it's too late, and the bulbs like the knot fill the space behind the teeth and add throat. If you relax and concentrate so that you do not suffocate, you can still breathe, but panic or if you tighten it a little, the airway will be blocked.

5. Supports Skin Cell Turnover

He noticed it during the next orgasm. He drools the bulbs in their throat and try to force them out of their throat, and drool. He turned his eyes round for pleasure and oxygen deficiency, and when he finally returned from the uplifting, he was reminded of relaxing and ghosts and relaxing from the ghost, and again. Return to the tied up.

• At this time, the soap was removed from the pussy and was suffering from pain in empty. He makes a soft voice full of curiosity and flexibility, which barely passes through the monkey. There is no word in his head, and there is just the emotions and desires of life. The ghost screams again, but this time it feels much predated.
• Another tentacle slipped into one of the large tentacles with the sucker this time. He feels that the wet, small bumps sticking to the wet skin and the lips outside the pussy with the flushed skin of the legs. The head was tapered, but I witnessed how wide the root was and had no idea how to fit into the body. Even the last tentacles struggled and were like soda cans. The tentacles are larger, dexterous, and seem to be moving in all directions with free intentions not found in other tentacles. < SPAN> Sucking on the tentacles attached to the mouth, breathing in and raises a fluttering voice when spitting out. He is waving on the tentacles of the barbed wire, which is still moving the penis. I don't know if the lubricating oil there is dry and becomes more conscious of the feel, or wants to escape from the irritability, or if you want to make sure you don't feel the tentacles in your belly.
• Anyway, his body has been able to catch a painful pleasure on an onslaught. His desires to please God are as strong as the inseparable binding wrapped around his limbs.

6. Keeps Skin Hydrated

At first, he did not notice, but his tentacles in his mouth steadily expanded, reached deep in his throat, and stretched his chin further. When you notice it, it's too late, and the bulbs like the knot fill the space behind the teeth and add throat. If you relax and concentrate so that you do not suffocate, you can still breathe, but panic or if you tighten it a little, the airway will be blocked.

He noticed it during the next orgasm. He drools the bulbs in their throat and try to force them out of their throat, and drool. He turned his eyes round for pleasure and oxygen deficiency, and when he finally returned from the uplifting, he was reminded of relaxing and ghosts and relaxing from the ghost, and again. Return to the tied up.

7. Gateway to Relaxation

At this time, the soap was removed from the pussy and was suffering from pain in empty. He makes a soft voice full of curiosity and flexibility, which barely passes through the monkey. There is no word in his head, and there is just the emotions and desires of life. The ghost screams again, but this time it feels much predated.

Another tentacle slipped into one of the large tentacles with the sucker this time. He feels that the wet, small bumps sticking to the wet skin and the lips outside the pussy with the flushed skin of the legs. The head was tapered, but I witnessed how wide the root was and had no idea how to fit into the body. Even the last tentacles struggled and were like soda cans. The tentacles are larger, dexterous, and seem to be moving in all directions with free intentions not found in other tentacles. While sucking on the tentacles on the mouth, he breathes in and raises his ludation when spitting out. He is waving on the tentacles of the barbed wire, which is still moving the penis. I don't know if the lubricating oil there is dry and becomes more conscious of the feel, or wants to escape from the irritability, or if you want to make sure you don't feel the tentacles in your belly.

8. Evens Out Skin Tone

Anyway, his body has been able to catch a painful pleasure on an onslaught. His desires to please God are as strong as the inseparable binding wrapped around his limbs.

At first, he did not notice, but his tentacles in his mouth steadily expanded, reached deep in his throat, and stretched his chin further. When you notice it, it's too late, and the bulbs like the knot fill the space behind the teeth and add throat. If you relax and concentrate so that you do not suffocate, you can still breathe, but panic or if you tighten it a little, the airway will be blocked.