Indian Pinki Bhabhi Helping Her Husband Jeet To Piss

“Yeah, nowhere to go now, huh, slut? Al, get the fuck over here.”I wasn’t entirely sure what he expected from me, with her ass and mouth full and her hands vainly trying to protect herself from Jeff’s forceful face-fucking. Pulling his belt from his pants in one thorough motion, he flung it at me blindly. “I want to feel her screams around my cock.” Looking briefly at the belt, and then at the tortured beauty on the table, I folded the belt in two and brought it down hard across her stomach. Though it would be hard to identify as a scream, there was clearly some pained cry trying to squeeze its way past the cock drilling her throat. “Again.” This time I brought it down across her breasts as he pulled out enough for us to enjoy her plaintive wails before quickly gagging her on his cock again. I began slapping whatever exposed parts of her body I could find: her upper thighs, her breasts, her sensitive stomach. Her smooth, tanned skin was soon riddled with angry, red welts. Fortunately. I was suppose to be gone for 5 days. My family and I left on Thursday afternoon at 5 pm and got to our hotel in Memphis Tennessee around 1 am Friday morning. We decided to stop for the night and get up in a few hours and drive the remaining 3 hours of the trip to Atlanta Georgia. I called Courtney's cell phone and left her a voicemail telling her we made it and that I loved her. We all got up around 11 am Friday morning and since the wedding wasnt for another 6 hours, as a family we decided to go to Turner Field and catch an Atlanta Braves Baseball game. The game ended around 4 pm and by the time we drove across town back to our hotel we had around an hour and a half to get ready for the wedding. After everyone was redressed we got in the family car and drove to the church. The wedding was very nice, and unlike catholic weddings,(im catholic, so I would know) it wasnt too unbearably long. Just as the ceremony was wrapping up my cell phone started vibrating in my pocket. I quietly.
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