Desi Fat Aunty Bathing

She isn’t pulling any punches and the strokes become increasingly heavy. I remain standing, but the convulsing twists of my body make that difficult. I am rapidly approaching breaking point. The only comments from my tormentors are the odd compliment for stokes that bore home well, and rebukes for me. I look up and find the bar maid now staring into my face across the bar. I'm not crying yet, but tears are beginning to well in my eyes. She takes delight in my suffering, and offence at my gaze.. I held her tight, crushing her breasts against my chest so hard I could feel her crying underneath me.“That's it slut!” I eased my dick to the hilt in her pussy, savoring the feel of her vaginal muscles convulsing around me.“That's it baby!” I slowly rocked my hips inside her, letting the final drops of cum seep into her body. I lifted up off her chest just enough to look into her eyes, she was sobbing, her lips quivering.“Tell me what you are bitch.” Emily couldn't look me in the eyes, her. .. The thought of it spurred me on and I let out a quiet moan as I pushed my feet against the bottom of the bath, raising my hips until my soft pussy curls broke the surface, for him to see. I took the foamy sponge from my belly and began to massage my mound, allowing soft, needy ‘hmms’ to escape my lips, listening for his breathing, which I could hear was clearly more ragged and panting now. I set down the sponge and began to stroke my soft wet lips with slick, slippery fingers. His movements. I wanted to do the thrusting and penetrating, not be the vessel to be filled. I've put on a woman's body, I'm wearing women's clothes in a woman's room; Howard has even started calling me by a woman's name: Martina. But I'm not a woman. I don't think it's something you can learn.With the first timers and the ones who kept coming back under different faces, they were there to fill some need. They either felt themselves to be women or were expressing some in-built need to experiment and blur.
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