Mallu Aunty Wet Pussy Fucked By Indian Desi Neighbor
Good hard thrusts and deep throating. Amazing.All of the sudden, there's a knock on the door. Jessica stand up briefly and unlocks it, then goes back to my cock. I'm a little confused there too. Is her freak'n mom going to join us or something?? Then I get my answer. My girlfriend slides back through that door. Strap-on still pointing out like a compass looking for pussy.Now it takes me a second to wrap my mind around this one. Jessica's blowing me. My girlfriend is now lining up her strap-on with her little sister's asshole. And I'm getting a dildo in my ass. The math doesn't exactly work here.My girlfriend sees the confusion on my face and answers my question. Just as she bottoms out the strap-on in Jessica's ass in one swift stroke, she tells me, "I left the door of the next booth wide open. There's a line of guys waiting in the hallway for service in my 'girlfriends' ass. They think you're a hot blonde that looks just like me. So don't disappoint them, or this will be the last. Why would... That girl, the other one of the task force. The brunette. What was her name? She drove a motorcycle.His study was at the back of the house. The lights couldn't be seen from the front. He hurried over and hit the switch, dousing the room in darkness except for the light coming in the window from the backyard light.He heard the sound of footsteps close to the front door and glanced out his study door, staying well back in the shadows. It was her, the cop with the motorcycle, and the FBI agent. Did they know? Why else would they be here at this time of night? But how did they find out?That didn't matter now. He slipped away from the door to the hallway and crossed the study, opening the big double French doors and sneaking out into the night.The darkness welcomed him, he knew where he was going, knew every inch of the grass and rock between the house and the little door that he had carefully hidden with a rock garden, bushes and vines. He reached in his pockets for the keys.
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