Indian Wife Fuck Her Office Boss 32
“Tell me how much you love it, bitch!” Daddy screamed as he drove into me harder, his filthy dick battering my ass.“I love it when you hurt my ass, Daddy!” I said through tears. Think of Paul, I told myself; Paul wants you to call him Daddy…it’s Paul, it’s Paul… It didn’t stop the pain or my tears, but I would do it for Paul.“Beg me to hurt your ass more, bitch!”“Please hurt my ass more, Daddy!” I cried as he pounded into me, “Please make it hurt bad!” Daddy groaned as he pumped hard into me, “I’m a bad girl, and I deserve to be hurt!” I could feel his cock getting stiffer inside me; it felt like a huge pole being forced inside, fast and deep. This could end it, I thought. “Please tear my dirty whore ass open with your dick, Daddy! Please make it bleed! Punish me…” No matter how I tried to hold Paul in my mind, I couldn’t help but scream as Daddy started driving his dick in as hard as possible; a long scream that lasted as his dick, now rock-hard, battered and stretched. The beers began to flow and the classic rock band began their first set. It had been at least five years, if not more, since I had been on a ride, and yet, I felt at home. The cold beer and the warm atmosphere of old friends reminded me of all the previous rides I enjoyed while growing up. Except, of course, now I could drink the cold beer!Our group spread out over several long picnic tables with me sitting right next to Daddy. People always called him “Deef” which, he explained, was short for “de Facto Leader.” Like I said, this club was very loosely organized, but everyone recognized him as the leader since he set up the runs and handled the donation money. I liked this crowd. These were my kind of peeps. They weren’t like those lawyers and dentists who ride once every six months or something and call themselves bikers. These guys were like construction guys, factory workers, blue-collar I guess you’d say. I dated a few college boys, and I’m done with them. They looked down on.
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