Deep Anal Massage From India

There's a familiar pressure of cock against underpants, the entrapment of the willing. A memory prods me, of when I was younger. Before women, before sex, but after the discovery of pleasure. I remember the motion and the feeling; the pure wanton release of youth, and the unbelievable frequency of it. I blush, remembering the stiff stained sheets; proof of the act, or sometimes just the dream.I lie on my back, calm and sure in the warmth, and slide my hands down my skin. There's a certain inevitability in the movement, despite the fact that I'm convinced I could stop.Fingertips slide gently over the cloth at first, proud of the bulge, and the subtle leak from its tip. There's a sensitivity that's almost feminine at this point, where every touch produces a mental gasp, despite the almost complete lack of movement. The very tip of one finger, the very tip of one cock.I tease myself from the outside in. Sometimes a thin sheet helps, an additional covering to numb the pulse. I rub, slowly. She was soaked and here we were, sitting in a bar drinking cocktails while I gently fingered her naked pussy. This night promised to be fun… I kept gently fiddling with her thighs and pussy lips as we finished a couple more drinks before heading outside. We jumped in a cab and got him to drop us off near one of the swingers clubs. We figured we would have a look and see if we chickened out or not. We rang the bell and waited for someone to answer, it was all feeling remarkably normal as we stood there. That is until a middle aged man wearing nothing but a cape and a mask opened the door and invited us inside. We paid our money and were shown inside to a small ‘living room’ with seats around the outside, a small bar on one side and a cage hanging in the middle of the room. There were a few couples in the room but all still dressed and just chatting, however we were relieved to see that they were all about our age and normal looking (don’t know what we had been expecting]. We sat at.
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