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ALemurier Profile

ALemurier

Profile views: 103784
Fanbase: 1870

About Me
To you, my beloved fans

I’d like to thank you a lot, as I can see you’re quite a crowd.

I hope you enjoy my fantasies, as much as I enjoy them.

Unfortunately, I’ve had a bad case of uninspiration and I hope you could help me all.

Send me some pictures you like and/or some fantasies of yours and if they excite me, I’ll publish them here.

Be pervert, be creative

Love you all

Interests
Captions , Milf

Signed up: 16 years and 7 months ago
Images viewed: 22596
Images uploaded: 8003

Gender: Male
Sexual orientation: Straight

Birth: 01/01/1918

Location: Other Country

Last Online: 10 hours ago

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oedip_fr

Gender: Male
Orientation: Straight

argyle1812

Gender: Male
Orientation: Straight

janabanana

Gender: Female
Orientation: Bisexual

MiamiMike

Gender: Female
Orientation: Bisexual

benz_maruthi1

Gender: Female

Comments (42)

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Murgy92 Comments: 76	Commented on Nov 3, 2026 "Soon my Cousins joined my younger brother to become my submissive bottom boy incest harem. Of course, I've had to put them all into chastity, otherwise they'd start trying to fuck each other, and that just wont do. Plus, I like the effect that seeing their keys on my necklace has on them. It gets them so riled up trying to earn an unlock that's never going to happen."

Murgy92 Comments: 76	Commented on Nov 3, 2026 "It takes a lot of time and effort to raise your perfect incest sex toy. Finding a woman whose as into it as you, making a deal about which kids will be trained which way, the messages sneaked into their nighttime stories, the quite hypnotic suggestions in their sleep aids, the manipulation of the porn they encounter as they get older, making sure you remain the object of their desire throughout their formative years and undermining of what they're taught of social norms. But its all worth it. Because come their 18th birthday, you finally get to use them, and its better than you'd ever imagined. Especially when you discover just how many of the hypnotic suggests took root."

Murgy92 Comments: 76	Commented on Nov 3, 2026 "I wouldn't change it for the world! Though sometimes I do wish I wasn't leaking quite so much fratboy cum out of my gapping ass while out with mother. It turns me on so much the budge is hard to hide, and reminds me that the two roughest fratboys are waiting to fill me up again when I get back to the frathouse. I wonder if they'd let me stay as their fuck meat once I graduate?"

Murgy92 Comments: 76	Commented on Nov 3, 2026 "The fact I offer any fan who i meet the chance to recreate their favourite scene of mine has yet to get back to my friends and family, but its certainly spread amongst my fan! Need to shoot a gangbang scene with how many are approaching me." ALemurier \| Nov 3, 2026 Starring in porn doesn't make you gay. Getting gangbanged by the fans may do, though... Murgy92 \| Nov 3, 2026 Its just to show how much I appreciate my fans. I still date girls. Granted its been a while but dating is hard right now. Almost as hard as my fans get for me.

Lillithsx69 Comments: 4,173	Commented on Nov 3, 2026 "He needs to do a better job at getting it inside her."

Murgy92 Comments: 76	Commented on Nov 3, 2026 "Your roommate is glad you've finally taken the hint that he's a cock hungry bottom boy whose big black ass needs breeding daily. You soon find yourself in bed together everyday, for most of the day. He may not be able to get pregnant, but that doesn't stop you from trying."

BelenGar Comments: 564	Commented on Nov 1, 2026 "Me too" ALemurier \| Nov 1, 2026 Naughty Mommy BelenGar \| Nov 1, 2026 Well, I just fell in love with my son

kiscsirke96 Comments: 497	Commented on Oct 30, 2026 "In the narrow dark of the wardrobe, Xev Bellringer's body was already half-lost in the role. The thirty-eight-year-old performer felt the familiar sharpening that only this particular taboo brought her-the mother-and-adopted-son fantasy that always made her wetter, hotter, more present than any other scene. Imagining the hard young body pressed against hers belonged to the son she had raised turned every brush of fabric and every throb of contact into something electric. The kink itself fed her; resistance and surrender both tasted richer because of it. She stood pressed chest-to-chest with him among the hanging coats, soft summer dress clinging to the heavy swell of her natural breasts, the gentle curve of her belly, the full width of her hips. At five-foot-five her body filled the cramped space with warm, womanly softness-thick thighs already trembling, blue eyes wide in the blackness, long hair falling forward as she tried to hold herself upright. The sliding door had locked. They were trapped. "Don't panic," she whispered, voice thin with real panic of her own. "It's gonna be fine. Just... just stay quiet. Dad will open it soon." But the minutes stretched and her legs began to shake. The thick, insistent ridge of his cock pressed against the soft give of her lower belly and the tops of her thighs. Every time her muscles softened even a fraction she sank lower onto it. She felt the exact shape of the head through the thin layers of dress and lace, felt it pulse when her weight settled. Inside the role she kept telling herself this was her adopted son, the boy she had raised, and she must resist. The thought only made her lace grow damper. "Try to relax," she breathed later, when the pressure had grown unbearable. "Think of something else. Please. Make it... soften." Her voice cracked on the last word. She knew it was impossible. He was feeling every soft, heavy curve of her-his own mother's body-pressed tight against him in the dark, the full weight of her breasts crushed to his chest, the heat of her pussy only a thin scrap of lace away. He had never been so hard in his life. She tried again to lift herself. Failed. Another slow millimeter of give. The head of him found the softest, wettest part of her through the fabric and pressed. A tiny sound escaped her throat. "Ok... ok, just stay like this," she whispered, almost to herself. "Let's not move. Don't move." But her thighs were trembling harder now. The thick head pushed the stretched lace into her folds. She was wet enough that it slid easier than it should. She felt herself begin to open around the shape of him. Her full breasts shifted and dragged against his chest with every shallow breath; her nipples were already stiff and aching. "Please..." The word came out broken. "We need to stop." Yet her body sank another inch. The head popped past the resistance of the lace and the entrance of her pussy. Sudden fullness made her eyes roll back. Heat flooded her belly. She could feel every ridge, every pulse of the cock that the role insisted was her adopted son's. The performer in her drank the taboo greedily; the mother character fought it with short, desperate sentences while her hips betrayed her. "Please... we need to stop-" Her own weight carried her lower. The fabric stretched, then tore softly at the seam. More of that thick shaft slid into her, hot and alive. Her walls fluttered and clenched. She bit down on a moan, face buried against his neck. "Ok, just... stay. Don't move. Please." But she was already grinding in tiny, helpless circles. The last of the lace gave way. Skin to skin. She was fully seated, impaled to the root, the thick base stretching her open, the head pressed deep inside. Juice ran down his shaft. She rocked once, twice, still whispering the same broken pleas even as her soft belly rolled against him and her heavy breasts bounced quietly with every small movement. "Please... we need to stop... oh god-" The short sentences grew weaker. Her thighs spread wider around his hips because there was no other way to stand. She rose a few inches and sank again, dragging every thick inch along the sensitive places inside her. The head kissed the deepest part of her on the downward stroke; her clit ground against the base each time she took him fully. "Oh god... oh god, why does this feel so good..." The words spilled out of her in a trembling rush. She was still the mother in the scene-never crude, never demanding-but the pleasure was undoing her. The performer felt the mother-and-adopted-son taboo multiply every sensation until her whole body was shaking. She kept trying to lift off, kept failing, kept sinking back down onto the cock that the fantasy insisted belonged to her son. The first orgasm began low in her belly and kept growing. Her walls tightened in long, rhythmic pulses around the thick shaft. The first wave hit and her thighs locked; she could only grind in tiny circles while heavy, liquid surges rolled through her. Her full breasts shook with every contraction. She came hard, gushing around him, the wetness soaking both of them, yet it did not stop. "Oh god... oh god-" The second wave was stronger. Her whole body seized, spine arching as much as the cramped space allowed, a low broken cry tearing from her throat as her pussy milked him in deep, spasmodic clenches. She was fully seated, impaled, and every pulse made her sink even tighter onto the root. The taboo of mother and adopted son was what made it catastrophic; the performer felt the kink amplify every spasm until she was mindless with it. Juice ran down her thighs while her pussy kept fluttering and squeezing in long aftershocks that pulled soft, helpless whimpers from her throat. They were still locked together, her soft heavy body draped against his, when the sound of the front door opening reached them through the thin wardrobe walls. Footsteps. Her husband's voice calling cheerfully into the house, wishing himself happy birthday, keys dropping onto the table just outside the bedroom. He was right there in the room now, only a few feet away, completely unaware. Her eyes flew wide in the dark. Panic and need crashed together. She clamped one hand over her adopted son's mouth; his hand came up at the same time and covered hers. Their palms pressed tight, muffling every sound. Neither of them pulled away. Neither of them called out. The thick cock still buried to the root inside her throbbed harder at the danger, and her walls answered with a fresh, helpless clench. They began to move again-slow, careful, almost silent. Tiny rolls of her hips that dragged the full length of him in and out by only an inch or two at a time. Every micro-movement was deliberate, controlled, yet the pleasure kept climbing because the taboo had only grown sharper with her husband standing just beyond the door. She could hear him moving around the room, humming, opening a drawer. The knowledge that he was so close while she remained impaled on their adopted son's cock made her drip around the shaft in fresh, warm pulses. "Mmmph-" The sound was trapped against his palm. Her blue eyes were half-closed, lashes wet. She kept the slow rhythm, rising a fraction and sinking again, feeling every ridge of him slide along the oversensitive places inside her. The mother character still fought in short, muffled fragments against his hand-"please... we need... stop..."-but her body refused. The performer drank the heightened risk and the mother-son fantasy together until the third orgasm became inevitable, necessary, the only thing that could finish what the first two had started. It built slower this time, heavier, deeper. Her thighs trembled violently against his. Her full breasts, still crushed to his chest, shifted with every careful grind; the soft undersides were slick with sweat. She felt the head of him kiss the deepest part of her on each tiny downward press, felt her clit drag against the thick base, felt her walls begin to flutter in long, preparatory waves. Outside, her husband was still there, footsteps pacing, completely oblivious. The third crest took her like a slow-motion detonation. It started in the root of her belly and unfurled outward in thick, rolling surges that seemed to last forever. Her pussy clamped down in powerful, rhythmic contractions that milked the entire length of the cock inside her, pulling soft, broken sounds from both of them that their hands barely contained. She shook hard, toes curling, free hand fisting the fabric of his shirt, body locked in the cramped space while the pleasure kept cresting and cresting. Juice flooded out of her in a warm rush that soaked his balls and the floor of the wardrobe. The contractions went on and on-deep, mind-shattering pulses that made her vision white out and her legs give completely so that she could only sit fully impaled, trembling, while the orgasm wrung every last drop of sensation from her overstimulated body. Even after the peak began to ease, smaller waves kept rolling through her for long seconds more, each one forcing another quiet clench around the thick shaft that still filled her completely. She stayed sealed against him, hand still over his mouth, his hand still over hers, both of them breathing in shallow, muffled gasps while her husband moved around the room just outside, still none the wiser. The taboo of mother and adopted son, sharpened by the near discovery, had made the third orgasm longer, heavier, and more devastating than the ones before it. Only when the last aftershock finally faded did her body soften, still full, still dripping, still locked in the dark with the cock that the fantasy insisted belonged to her son. When the red light finally died, Xev stayed exactly where she was-still full of him, still trembling through the last soft aftershocks that rolled across her heavy breasts and soft belly. The taboo had not stayed on the other side of the lens; it had soaked into her skin. Every grind, every clenched orgasm had felt true, as if the young body beneath hers really belonged to the son the scene had named. She saw the same surrender in the thick, warm spill still leaving her and in the unfocused, far-away look on his face. That shared belief was the quiet engine behind every clip that sold. Her work was simply permission to live inside the fantasy she already carried. The only technique she had ever needed was to stop performing: to panic for real, to fight the pull for real, to feel the wrongness and the hunger twist together until both collapsed into pure need. Now she smiled against his shoulder, felt him soften inside her, felt the slow warm mess of his release slide down the insides of her thighs and stain the ruined dress. She drew him closer, letting the afterglow and the lingering sweetness of the forbidden settle around them both."

lordatomosk Comments: 884	Commented on Oct 29, 2026 "Being a complete bondage submissive, ready to be dominated by any man, even her son"

pantyboy55 Comments: 4,060	Commented on Oct 28, 2026 "I'm definitely in the mood to go FULL homo today. Just good, manly cum sucking and butt fucking. That's that I need."

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