Indian Couple In Beach

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I reached around and grabbed her clit and her nipples and pulled on them roughly and she squealed even more. The harder I pounded into her ass and pulled at her the louder she got, and when I felt my cum start to shoot out of me she knew it. She started screaming like I was ripping her in half and grabbing my cock so hard I thought she was going to break it off. When each spurt of my cum shot out she jerk like she was actually shot, until she just hung there, impaled on my cock and quivered. I could feel her cum running down my legs, and her heels against my calves, and she was just shaking. After a minute she managed to say, “Tim, can we lay down and you just hold me? The floor is fine. Just wrap yourself around me and hold me. Please, baby?”I held her as tight as I could and stayed inside her, and just sort of knelt down and rolled onto the floor with her wrapped in my arms. She was shivering, I thought she was cold, but it was something with the way she’d come, she was. “Fuck! You’re so fucking hot. Swallow the cum and kiss me.”She stood up and he grabbed her and kissed her hard on her mouth. He tasted his cum from her lips. It tasted very savory.“Fucking hell! You’re so fucking hot." Then he remembered Michelle and froze. "Hold on...Does my daughter have sex like you?”“She does. She had my daddy last week.”“Really?”Stanley was shocked Michelle was fucking Kitty’s father. But at least now he didn’t feel so bad that he fucked Kitty. He liked how horny she was and liked fucking her.“If you get bored tonight, you know where to find me.”“Okay. I might want that big dick again.”Michelle wrapped her towel around her body and found her bathing suit by the hot tub. She ran inside to tell her friend what happened.~~Michelle was painting her nails and toes when Kitty walked into her bedroom.“Well? Did you fuck my father?”“Yes.”“Really? Was he any good?”“He was. We fucked in the hot tub and he ate my pussy in his man cave.”“Did you suck his cock.
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From the first he had her tied to his bed and, although he brought her food and water, she refused to speak to him. Each evening, when he returned to his cabin for the evening, she would lie in the bed silently. Remembering her excitement the first time he had taken her, he wished he could do something to get a response, but no matter what he tried, she remained icy to his advances. One evening, confident in his charisma, he decided that he would confront her about her silence and hopefully get her to talk. As before, she sat in his bed, tied to the headboard, as impassive as a statue. Amelia, stubborn as ever she had been to the many women her father had brought into their house to educate her, was determined not to give up her silent protest. To her mind she was acting like a newly abducted Persephone. ‘Won’t you talk to me?’ he asked. Still she stared at him impassively. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked for the umpteenth time. Still there was no response. Seeing that he seemed to.

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