My Pure Indian Wife Fingering
The way the man holds my hips, driving his cock in and out of me as I arch my back pushing my ass so his cock slides in deeper. The thrill of his cock...as it scrapes my prostate, bringing joy to my body both inside and out. The way the man controls it, sliding in and out, back and forth, at first slow and easy and then hard and fast as he begins to pound me and to fill me completely as he lets me know that he owns my body. The thrill of submitting to him, wanting it, begging for more, moaning. The excitement as I exposed my now naked body lit up his face. It actually excites me that he feels that way about me despite how wrong I know what I’m allowing to happen here is. But I’m about to throw cold water on him.“I’m worried about the things you’re doing with your sister.”He stopped staring at my pussy and looked into my eyes, trying to read me. A moment passed before he said, “I know. We know all about the taboos. I wish you hadn’t found out. But I love Sara. I would never hurt her.”I. The knowledge of what they'd just done, though, was less so, for both of them. Both were still wearing their wedding rings, and both of them felt them on their fingers."I'm not sorry," insisted Jeff, mostly to himself, and mostly in an attempt to convince himself that he wasn't."Why does life have to be so unfair?" asked Roberta. "Why couldn't we have met each other years ago?" It wouldn't have been the same," said Jeff. "We might not have even been attracted to each other back then."She looked. That's so fucking hot on you" I exclaimed. She smiled and lingered a little longer before leaving me with my massive hardon stretching the front of my shorts. I sat and thought for a moment, and considered just how she was acting."Hmmm ... maybe she isn't acting" I surmised."Ah fuck this ... two can play this game" I gasped at the camera. I stood up and pulled off my shirt and then dropped my shorts. I resumed my seat naked on the lounge chair with my hand wrapped around the base of my shaft. I.
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