Married Desi Bhabhi Fucking Session Caught On POV Cam

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Wet muscle closed around it like a vice, massaging his length as she swallowed around the foreign object, drinking down the saliva that was pooling in her mouth.Her throat contracted around his cock in waves as though trying to drag him deeper, that agile tongue sneaking out to lick his balls as she held him there, fat globs of her drool escaping to wet his thighs. She kept her face buried in his lap for far longer than seemed reasonable, showing no signs of discomfort. Didn’t she need to breathe? How long could she possibly keep it up? The heat and suction were making his head spin, the teasing contractions as the silken lining of her throat rippled up his length making his toes curl. At this rate, he might break before she even had to come up for air.Ryan still couldn’t see her – she was lurking beneath the blanket, a huge mound from Ryan’s perspective with pointed horns that tented the sheets above her head. Only now did she elect to throw back the covers to reveal what she was. He rubbed her round ass. Then smack! He started spanking her. I was astonished. My Dad hadn't spanked us since we were like 8 years old. Kristen was completely silent. My Dad hit her ass at least 10 more times before she was biting her lip. He shoved two fingers in her cunt. “Wet. I knew it. Your little cunt is soaking wet for Daddy.” Kristen's eyes were close. She was humiliated to be horny for Daddy because he was spanking her ass. Her refusal to admit she wanted him, brought more punishment. Daddy's hand got tired and he grabbed a hairbrush and delivered blow after stinging blow to her ass. She started crying, but it was in lust. She was dry humping his other hand. He pushed her off in the floor. Get on your knees slut and wait. I have to punish Kayla too. “Get over here Kayla. Now.” Kristen was rubbing her ass and sniffing. I walked over to Daddy with shaking legs. I wondered if it would hurt. He held my hands behind my back and, WHACK. The first blow burned my ass like fire..
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Or even worse when you are trapped on that cold throne wondering if you should keep your behind there or if you need to quickly replace it with your head as the acidic liquid travels from your stomach over your taste buds and out your mouth like a violent projectile splashing into the ceramic basin. For a split second you feel relief from the escaped vomit, your settled stomach thanking you for the relief but then you taste it the bitter sourness of bile that urges on a companion for the basin. How I hate these days of the flu, my brain doesn’t seem to work correctly and the simplest of tasks become monumental. Your body cries out with each touch as if you are left a human voodoo doll and every touch is the witch pushing his pins deep into your skin, even putting your socks on leaves you breathless and sweaty. The days seem like weeks, the hours like days and the minutes like days as time drags to almost a complete stop. All you can do is wait for the cycle to end and when you have.

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