Indian Husband Drills His Wife’s Asshole

“You sniffed. You need a gulp of beer I presume. Here. Drink!” She smiled through tears and drank. But her chin was still trembling pitifully. “It could have been worse.” “Yea, you should be positive,” I said, then thought that my words sound like a cliché. She nodded enthusiastically and several teardrops landed on the casts. “Positive, positive, but I need to go to the toilet. “What will you…” “I have to pee, silly thing. We are drinking beer, remember?” “I will help you, no problem.” “I did it by myself this morning. It took me twenty minutes to pull down my panties, and I even used my feet, believe me or not. But I coped with the problem. Now, however, I don’t have nerves for that. I’m so… worn out.” “Hey, stop crying, Galia. I will assist you, don’t take on so!” “But it’s so awkward… a stranger…” “Oh, come on, what are neighbors for!” ***I was waiting outside. When she flushed the toilet, I went in to help her with the panties. But she was still busy washing. ” I considered delivering the last stroke after a two or three pace run-up, but decided against. The desired level of accuracy might be compromised. Instead, I stared intently at the spot I had chosen for the eighteenth stroke, lifted the dragon so high above my head that the tip pointed to the floor behind me, and then delivered the final stroke. The dragon whined its song of pain and pleasure. “Whiiiiiiiiiiiish Thwiiiickkkk." “Eeeeeeyaaaah! oooowhh! oooowh! mmhhhh! Ooohhh. Aaaaah. Yes! Eighteen! Oh thank you so much, Sir.” “Up you get, Emma.” She rose and turned to face me, there were tears running down her cheeks but she was smiling ecstatically. She wrapped her arms around me and buried her head in my chest. I reached down behind her and gently stroked her throbbing bottom. My God, it was hot. I led her to the kitchen, asked her to bend over, then gently eased the fig out of her bottom and put it into the rubbish bin. Taking her by the hand I led her into my bedroom, where I sat.
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