Desi Girl Ki Kuwari Chut Ko Lover Ne Chod Chod Kar Phada
Now I’m in right up to the hilt, my balls rubbing against her arse. Lying half along her back, I tenderly trace the line of her neck with soft kisses. I ease partly out her and she starts a slight movement of her own – sliding her tight cunny up and down along my cock – demanding her release. A new track starts on the CD – a quiet, slow rhythm. Ideal to time my thrusts as I make full use of my gift. Nothing matters but the thrill in my cock, the joyous clutch of her velvet muscles as I ride her. I realise she’s staring into the flames, moaning with the joy of being fully used. Sighing and whimpering her skin is coated with a layer of sweat. ‘Daddy! Daddy! Yesss.’ She shivers and gasps as she cums for the first time. Firmly I slide my hands round her belly and up her chest to grasp each sweet, impudent little nipple between thumb and finger. They feel wonderful as I squeeze and use them as reins to pull her back onto me. ‘Don’t stop,’ I tell her, ‘there’s more to come.’ ‘Oh, yes. . .. “Let’s talk,” he said, “about poetry and why we study it…how you will learn to enjoy it because, after all, lots of poetry is about love and affection.” I was blushing and felt a thrill. I didn’t know why.Mr. Emerson opened a book on his desk and motioned me over beside him. I was breathing strangely and stood beside him looking down at the book. “This is the writing of Walt Whitman,” he said, “and much of his poetry is about love and feelings…read this part.” I leaned over to look at the words and his arm went around my waist. It was warm and I wiggled very slightly and began to read the poem about men and women and “feeling myself…alive” and Mr. Emerson was rubbing my back. “What do you think,” he asked. “It’s nice,” I said, not knowing what else to say and then blurted out: “Your hand feels nice on my back Mr. Emerson.” and he rubbed up and down my spine. My legs were getting weak and I moved into him. “Are you okay?” he asked and I could only nod and hope he wouldn’t.
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