Artistic India

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Tsubame: Oh. I'm not sure I really understand... Kenshin (patting her on the head): It's a little complicated. (Sorry, sorry.)(They come to a fork in the road.)Kenshin: Well, I'm headed this way.Tsubame: Thanks for carrying the basket. Oh, everyone's coming to the Akabeko at five today. After that we're going to Asakusa, so don't forget. It's to celebrate your safe return... Didn't they tell you?Kenshin: Oh, that. But are they serious? We drank all night the day we got back, and that's pretty much all we did that last month in Kyoto... Tsubame: Mr. Sanosuke said we should. He says you can do fun stuff as much as you want.Kenshin: All Sanosuke wants is a free meal. I wish I could learn to think like that.Tsubame (thinking, as Kenshin walks on): The best swordsman in Japan, that Yahiko looks up to... When Yahiko grows up, maybe he'll be a swordsman like that... (At the Akabeko)Sanosuke: He's LATE! It's four-thirty already!Kaoru: He still has half an hour. Anyway, you're always. As he neared her room he saw her dorr was slightly open, that was unusual and he could help but glance in. He stood transfixed at the vision before him. His mother was on her hands and knees, her round bottom sticking up high and towards him as he watched she pushed a large glass dildo slowly into her arse groaning as she did, how tight it looked without realising what he was doing his hand was rubbing his young cock through his jeans. His mother oblivious to her son watching slowly lowered herself on to a vibrating dildo that had a wide base that made it stand alone on the floor. He stood mouth agape as she lowered herself onto this massive vibrator all the way to its hilt, the glass toy staying in her arse. She was fucking herself deep and hard and it got faster and louder. His hand was on his cock now which stood out proud and hard as he stoked it softly at first but harder and harder keeping in rhythum with his mothers fucking as she came in a loud crescendo so did he, his young.
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And facially they were sisters in beauty and sexiness no matter the ethnic differences they displayed. "I've heard tell Moira is an exceptional mixologist." You don't drink?" I asked her.She chuckled. "I'm from a Christian sect. I prefer champagne." Passing through a hallway that separated the entrance area, a space large enough to be the family room of a normal sized house and in fact had the couch and chairs and media center from which emanated bland jazz, luckily kept at low volume, serving as Muzak, she guided us to a large dining room adjoining an impressive kitchen and the patio doors guarded by the second goon. At a corner opposite the kitchen stood a wet bar and the pretty if butch looking Moira dressed in the white shirt and black slacks of a server. "If you prefer champagne," she said, looking at Deidra, "I'll share some of my private stash." I'd like that," smiled Deidra. "Joe?" Sure," I said."A martini sounds good, honey," Dotty said to Kenneth."Go ahead, babe," he.

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