Indian Sexy Cheater Wife Fucked On Kitchen Table With Husband Friend
She was staying over as usual on a Friday night and we were snuggled up together in my bed, she was spooned into me and I had my arms round her waist."How do you know?" I asked and she sighed as I kissed her neck,"Because I like looking at girls" she said simply, "I get excited when I see a pretty girl" How do you mean excited?" Wet of course"I kissed her neck again and she shuddered,"I wish you wouldn't do that" Why not?" Because it feels too nice" How can anything feel too nice?"Before she could answer, we heard a stifled moan from my parent's bedroom next door,"He's fucking mum" I whispered and we both giggled, "I bet she's lying there with her legs wide open" I wish we could see" No" I said, "They always lock the door" and again, I pressed my lips to her neck,"Tell me what you'd do with another girl" I can't Frankie, I haven't done anything yet"Using just my fingers, I gathered her nightie and pulled it up around her waist, my hands cupped her breasts and I kissed her ear,"Would. Renewing my grip on her hips, I drove the rest of the way in, bottoming with my glans against her cervix and my pubic hair grinding against her clit. Another scream from her followed by almost violent sobbing. “Wait. Just wait. Don’t move,” she cried. It felt like my dick was being crushed in a vise, but I did as she said. Over the next few minutes (I actually don’t know how long it was), the pressure on my dick slowly subsided. She never felt loose, but she soon began working her hips and moving around on it. She was still very wet, as evidenced by the squishy sounds her motions brought forth. “Oh, God, yes. That’s better. Fuck me now. Fuck the shit out of me,” she moaned. Again, I did as I was told and discovered that the harder that I drove into her, the louder she moaned, but with more passion than pain now. I moved my hands down from her hips to under her, cradling her butt with my fingertips along her ass crack. I could feel her juices running up that channel,.
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