Indian Bhabhi Fucked By Dever

She desperately needed to touch, to feel—to play—but she knew she’d not earned that privilege. His voice turned to a velvet purr, “Good girl…” She moaned out her pleasure at the simple words of praise, arching against his fingers—willing herself to behave. Her voice cracked and tumbled out as a low whine as she begged for more, pleaded with him to give her everything, to push her past her limits.His fingers moved harder, became more insistent, and his voice was low and rough in her ear. “Break. My heart beat faster and faster. I shuddered, gripping her face with my thighs. “Oh, yes, yes! That's... That's... That's the best!”“Isn't it?” she asked. She licked her lips. “Mmm, Vanessa, you taste so good, too. You know that?”“I think so,” I said. “I mean...” My cheeks warmed.“I like sucking my fingers clean of pussy cream, too,” she said. “It's just usually your sexy grandma's not my yummy daughter's.”“Mommy!” I gasped as she ducked back down and lapped at me again.I squirmed on the bed.. A married couple, she thought. She kept looking at the woman, and noticed the clothes she was wearing. It seemed like she was dressed up as a burlesque dancer, wearing a tight corset, a short, fluffy skirt, long stockings, high heels and a boater hat, everything in black and red. The woman noticed Paige looking at her clothings, and said “Oh, don’t mind my outfit, I was just recording a video for my husband.” She went on: “So, Miss Turner, welcome to our own precious little home!” Paige didn’t. " Licking the remnants of the kiss off her lips, "We were going to dinner, right?" A brow arched as she questioned whether the plan was still on. The look in his eyes said he wanted something else. "Sure, dinner." He wore a dark shirt over his jeans, so that cock outline was well hidden. His hands were possessive as he took her arm and lead them through the throng of people. Dinner....laughter that awkward silence disappeared under jokes and innuendo. They were back...in his truck heading to.
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