Indian Cock Fucking White Friend Slow Mo

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I was standing next to the front desk and chatting with Patricia, as it was a Monday and my day off. I had purchased a used mini-SUV just the week before and planned to drive to the nearest mall for some new clothing. Patricia was suggesting some items I might consider, and at the same time she was teasing me by writing up a list of adult toys she thought might add spice to her nights with me when a waft of expensive perfume hit both of us.I did not recognize the woman who approached the counter, but she seemed to be studying my face. She had long hair, which clearly had been bleached to keep the blond color. Her face lacked any wrinkles, and her breasts were two perfect oversized melons sitting on her chest. Patricia muttered "trophy bunny", under her breath as the woman checked her bags to make sure they were inside and then walked up to the counter."Linda Tuttle, my husband and I have a reservation for your best suite," the blond said. "And can you get the porter to help my husband. “Mr. Olson, I’m so sorry. I—I shouldn’t have come into your room like that.” She seemed so apologetic, so flustered. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes wide, she had obviously never seen a dick before that was for certain. It gave me a sort of sick satisfaction that mine was the first she’d ever seen. Without thinking I brushed a lock of hair from her face. My voice came out lower than I expected as I said,“No. You probably shouldn’t have.”Before I knew it, I had pulled her face to mine and began kissing her. She tensed and then pulled away. ??“Mr. Olson!”Her lips had been so god damned soft. Like kissing, plush rose petals. I looked her up and down in my drunk and horny stupor. She was breathing heavily, her neck and collar bone leading to her chest. Perky breasts rose and fell as I leered at them greedily. Her petite frame tightly coiled from my advances. She looked fresh and alive, the exact opposite of the tired woman in the other room. I finally roved back up to her eyes which had a.
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Well, not then. He wasn't a pervert. Well, not then. He just washed her.The first time it crossed the line was when she was almost eleven. He was washing her cute hairless pussy and his finger flitted between her tight young labia. She cooed and said that felt good, so he did it for quite a while. He got hard, but made sure she didn't see that.Then, a year later, she'd come screaming to him, babbling that she was dying, bleeding to death. She dragged him to the bathroom and he saw the stool full of bright red water and knew she'd started her periods. He had prepared for this, reading up on the process, the products available, their pros and cons and so forth. So he calmed her down and taught her how to use tampons.He'd had to break her hymen to insert the first one, and he'd done it with his finger. That didn't seem strange to either of them. He'd been partially inserting his fingers in her for over a year, as he washed her in the bathtub.By then their routine was like this: First.

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