Srividyaathiya Ela Ne Puku Lo Na Sulli Peti...

I told him to slow it down. He made slow intense strokes of his hand followed by swallowing my dick, it was defiantly one of the better ones of had. I told him to stop and straddle my face, he lowered that pink hole onto my mouth and without instruction went back to sucking me. I ate his hole. Darting my tongue in and out of his hole, getting him wet and loose. I pushed him off and commanded him to mount my dick. His smile was ear to ear. He held his cock and balls out of the way and let me watch as my cock invaded his ass. God he was tight. He had that wide open mouth expression as he speared himself on me. Opening his eyes he smiled at me and started to ride my cock. Up and down he went. Faster and faster. His cock was slapping my stomach with every downward thrust. Smack, smack, smack it went. I couldn’t let that dick wiggle in front of me unattended. I grabbed it and stroked it as he continued to ride me. So warm and tight was his ass. I didn’t want this to stop. I wanted to. He grew tomatoes the size of cantaloupes, cucumbers, squash, several kinds of lettuce, strawberries, you name it. In another dark, damp room, he grew a bumper crop of mushrooms.About the only commercially produced treat they allowed themselves was good wine. They couldn’t grow enough grapes hydroponically to make their own, so they had a list of some of the best labels, domestic and foreign, to keep in stock. There was a huge liquor store about a hundred miles away that I shopped once every two or three months, loading up the bed of the Tundra with cases and cases. I don’t drink any more alcohol than an occasional beer, because growing up with a couple of drunks as parents pretty much scared me away from that habit. I know it isn’t charitable to feel this way, but drunk people disgust me.On the protein side of things, they even had an area way out in the farthest stretches of the cave where they raised chickens. There were about twenty of them, and they were allowed to scratch around.
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