Sin Delicious

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It is to be the ride of their lives: a chance to join heavy metal giants Thunderhed on the European leg of their world tour. It is to be done the old-fashioned way, too – all sex, drugs and rock and roll, and then even more sex. For sassy pleasure-addict Sindee it is the chance to get her big break and live out her hedonistic vision of indulgence in the process.

Sin Delicious

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Sin Delicious by Willow Sears


It is to be the ride of their lives: a chance to join heavy metal giants Thunderhed on the European leg of their world tour. It is to be done the old-fashioned way, too – all sex, drugs and rock and roll, and then even more sex. For sassy pleasure-addict Sindee it is the chance to get her big break and live out her hedonistic vision of indulgence in the process.


She is as yet unaware that Cas Casanove, one of the biggest rock stars on the planet, thinks that she might well be the girl of his dreams. He’s a fighter and a rebel, a charismatic titan who none would even suspect of having a softer side. And then Sindee comes along. She could be perfect, if the woman currently on his arm was not his wife.


Willow is there to photograph all of Sindee’s sexual shenanigans for a tell-all diary. Although every bit as feisty, Willow is her polar opposite in matters of the flesh, having suffered tragic heartbreak. Will her wild side be drawn out at last? Or will she convince her friend that love should triumph over lust?


Sin Delicious is a tale of two attitudes. It is also the truth behind the tour that broke the most notorious rock band in the world.

Additional Information

SKU PF4341
Author Willow Sears
Publish Date 02/10/2017
# of Pages 264
ISBN Number No
Artist Credit Elisanth - Shutterstock.com
Excerpt

“So, who have you chicks come here to see?” says Sheen, grinning lecherously and parting his legs as an invitation, not in the least bit worried that Cucumber Girl is draped all over him. I try to get into the head of the naked emo girl once more. Point to ME my thoughts say.

“Cas Casanove,” blurts the blonde, before my telepathy can work. Well, that’s not going to go down well. Honey is on her feet even faster than I’d envisaged, using me to help propel herself up from the squashy seat.

“You skanks think you can just come fuck my husband with me standing right here?” she yells, pointing at Raven Girl even though it was the blonde who said it. “Well, you’re going to learn to keep your hands where they ain’t wanted. Bag Man – do your stuff. Spank that bitch and do it hard!”

My insides flip. It’s that S-word again! It ratchets my pulse up another level. The girl still looks unabashed but maybe she hasn’t yet worked out what is coming her way. Bag Man has already undone his cuffs and is now attending to the buttons down the front of his tight-fitting, crisp shirt. There was no hesitation from him, no look of surprise. His response was immediate, as if this is a ritual they have performed before, although I’ve never yet seen it. Honey is still glowering but I bet her heart is beating as fast as mine. Off comes the Maori warrior’s shirt, leaving him bare-chested. He is covered in black tribal tattoos, all up his arms, on his back and neck. The torso is huge, all wide and solidly muscular. He could wrestle bulls. I’ve seen him pick up and hurl aside grasping, over-zealous fans two and three at a time. The massive hands could crush skulls. Raven Girl’s bum doesn’t stand a chance, but I don’t attempt to intervene.

This is going to be more than about punishment. Honey clearly gets off on such things and I am about to see why. Bag Man turns his victim so that her back is to us. Over her shoulder she gives Honey a last look of defiance. Then over she goes, forced to bend at the waist by a Maori hand at her back. He doesn’t put her over anything; she will have to keep herself there with hands on knees. The sight of her like this has me involuntarily squirming in my seat. She looks so innocent with her flawless white skin and that cute dark split. Maybe that’s what’s turning me on so much. Her bottom still has some puppy fat to upholster it but I doubt this will be adequate protection. Sheen lets out another nonchalant blast of grey smoke and I almost punch him in the face for daring to obscure my view.

Bag Man is more obliging, standing at her side so that we all have a fine view of proceedings. Even the blonde friend has moved in for a closer look. A huge tattooed arm goes over the pale girl’s body, almost encircling her at the waist so that she is held up. With fingers slightly splayed one giant hand goes back and then strikes sharply, rippling the soft flesh. The cheek pinks almost immediately, while it is still wobbling. The impact had me rather un-coolly jumping in my seat. It is as much her sound that has my thighs squeezing together – a gasp of shock and perhaps some panic, but not of pain necessarily, or of hatred for her abuser. It doesn’t sound like she wants it as such – or so my strange brain is telling me – more that she doesn’t want to say no to it.

The hand is almost large enough to cover every inch of the squashy buttock it lands upon. Slaps are dealt to each cheek in turn and with deliberately measured tempo: smack, smack, smack, then a pause; smack, smack, smack and pause again for the effect to be absorbed by all. Her vulnerable puss can be seen bulging between her thighs, looking ever more swollen and as wet as my own. Maybe one finger alone would be enough to finish her. It would me. I want all the accompanying whoops and encouraging comments to stop so that I can hear the noises properly – her noises. The buttocks are soon angry red with the skin seemingly shrinking against the flesh beneath. Although she squirms and her legs shake, she never tries to break his hold.

I don’t know how many she takes but I know my own cheeks are burning when footman Françoise enters to politely inform us that dinner will be served in an hour. He gives just the merest of glances towards the spanked bottom, his expression not changing. Lord knows what he has seen in his time in this household. Bag Man simply stops and reaches for his shirt, his task done as instructed. Honey’s bright eyes and sadistic sneer tell me she loved what she saw. Sindee looks ready for action too. Cucumber Girl strokes at Sheen’s crotch, so maybe she has detected something swelling inside his jeans. Surely this was just the start of things but everyone is already talking about dinner and all I want to do is see Raven Girl fucked so that I can ascertain just how close she is to orgasm. I almost demand it!

I want to see her face; detect signs of distress or rapture. Sheen is up, leading a mini exodus. Cucumber Girl is going to be filled very shortly, and that’s a fact. Honey already has Sindee by the hand and is reaching out for mine, telling us she will show us to our room so we can get ready for dinner. If Raven Girl has been warmed up for something it is a sad fact that I am not going to get to witness it. Such incidents are so ten a penny on this tour that no one else sees it as business that most definitely needs finishing. I glance back as I am led away but she is still head down in exactly the same position. I don’t know if she is too sore, too distressed to straighten up, or too much in rapture. I want it to be the latter: her head swimming with the joyous burn; her pussy bulging and desperate for any fingers or cock to see her taken over the edge.

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