Desi Bhabhi Hardfucking Midnight

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Her tender, heart-shaped lips gleam with a natural pink color and pout with a juicy succulence.“Sorry to bother you,” she smiles, “I am baking some cupcakes, and I ran out of powdered sugar. I was wondering if you had any I could borrow.”You let your eyes wander up and down Trish’s amazing body. She is wearing a pair of white knee-high stockings. Around her waist is a very short pleated skirt, with a plaid pattern of pink and baby blue. Tucked into the skirt is a tight button-up shirt that hugs her body, outlining her flawless figure. The shirt is white, but not entirely opaque, and you can see a white lace bra underneath, clasping her giant breasts together. Her bust is so large that several of the shirt’s top buttons cannot be buttoned, revealing her provocative cleavage. Around her neck is a small golden necklace with a cross, which rests between her voluptuous breasts.Based on her appearance and the way she dressed, Trish is often mistaken for someone who is very sexually active,. I did call my medic and he should be here soon."Masha frantically asks, "Elizabeth..."Liz interrupts, "Masha go, I will take care of Ivan."Masha runs toward the trashed Port-a-potty then some woman I don't know runs up and asks, "Did I just see Masha leave?"I demand, "Who the heck are you and what are you doing on my property?"She waves her hand and says, "Forget it, I know it was her." And then she takes off running after Masha."Then a couple guys I haven't seen for a long while arrive and add to the confusion...Present – Thom and Byron- at the cabinWe watch as Inga talks to Jennifer then takes off after Masha. We walk up to Jennifer and I comment, "Don't tell me you got shot again."Jennifer looks at us and quips, "I would say something worse, but Ivan is here so look what the cat dragged in."By her comment I understand to watch my language as to not incur the wrath of Masha then laugh and ask, "What in the world happened to the Port-a-potty? Did someone eat too many beans?"Jennifer.
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I realized that the times were exact and that she was counting too. She really was a pro. She would spit on either the tip of my dick or on her tiny hands, but she never really stopped working my massive pink cock. I grabbed her by the head and she instinctively put her hands behind her back and started lunging forward if I even hinted her head in that direction. She could never manage to get it all in her mouth, but that was for no lack of trying. She would come up for air and firmly tell me to, “fuck her mouth harder,” and that, “I wasn’t going to hurt her.” We fell into a good rhythm. I would pump her mouth for about ten seconds, then twenty, then twenty again. Her eyes here wide and she seemed so eager, so hungry. Twenty-five seconds. Her eyes were watering now, mascara running. She took my spit-soaked cock out of her mouth, scooped the saliva off her messy face, and plunged her soaking hands back down on my shaft. For a while, she just worked me with both hands and looked me.

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