Desi Village Bhabi Chat With Husband

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Wo mujhe bhaiyaa bol ke bulati thi.Jab wo padne aya karti thi to jyadatar night suit ya lower top mai hua karti thi wo bhi kaafi deep gale wale.Ek din mai uske samne table pe baith ke usko pada raha tha tabhi uska pen niche gira aur wo usko uthaane ke liye jhukii.Us din meri nazar uski chuchiyo pe padi aur wo nazara dekh ke mera sara sharir sann reh gaya.Yaro maine kabhi nahin socha tha ki ek 18 saal ki ladkii ke boobs itne bade bhi ho sakte hain.Aaj pehli baar meri nazar un pe padi thi aur laga kam se kam unka size 32 raha hoga(jo sahi tha mujhe bad mai pata chala).Wo pen utha ke upar sidhi baith gayi par mai abhi bhi use ektak dekhe ja raha tha shayad kisi aur duniya main tha.Tabhi usne mujhe jor se hilaya aur boli kya bhaiya aap to aankhe khuli rakh ke bhi so jate ho.Ye sun ke mujhe halki si hasi aa gayi aur wo bhi hasne lagi aur maahaul thoda saamaanya ho gaya.Thodi der aur padne ke bad wo jane ki bolne lagi to maine use bhej dia.Jab wo ja rahi thi to mai peechhe se uski gaand ko. I immediately lost mine as his grew harder and harder, if possible. ‘Oh my gosh, look at that.’ Amanda moved my head to where I was forced to look a the large black horse cock that was now in my face, Devin’s cock was maybe 9.5 inches. ‘Gosh! Only if you were that big, I wouldn’t have to find somebody else.’ Amanda grabbed it and started jerking it. ‘I think he like your cum.’ Amanda said, sticking her left hand in her pussy then pulling it out. Cum was on her left hand and she placed it on my face, running the hand over my lips, nose, and cheeks. Suddenly she grabbed my chin and forced my jaws open, with my mouth wide open she stuck her hand in and touched my tongue with her nasty fingers. ‘See?’ She said, still jerking him off. ‘Feed it to him from you fresh fucked pussy.’ Devin said. Amanda listened to him too. Devin held my jaws open easily as Amanda sat on my face and stuck a finger in her, it made Devin cum slowly roll out her pussy, which once was mine only, into my mouth..
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I am happy that you came to Paris at this time, VV. I think you will enjoy this evening.’ It was a short walk from the cafe to the house, of which K occupied the two top floors. An old square, apartment building, with all the rooms centred around an inner courtyard. The third floor was a lounge and bathing area, where clients would arrive sometime before their appointment to relax with a drink, or to smoke hashish, watch a pornographic movie, to shower and change before being escorted upstairs by one of the smoothly attired, discreet and controlling butlers. When you crossed the threshold into K’s mansion, you gave up the outside world entirely and placed yourself into the hands of her staff. The third floor also had separate backstage area for the freelancers, whose arrival and departure was timed precisely to avoid meeting the clients. When we arrived the third floor was empty apart from a handsome barman. ‘Bonjour mesdames,’ he offered as we walked in. ‘Bon apres midi, Charles,’ K.

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