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WAH KYA HONTH THE MERI SWEET SWEET BAHEN KE. HONEY se bhi jyada meethe. Dil kar raha tha ki bas aise hi choosta rahun. Kabhi bhi alag na hoon. Fir wo bhi mere hoonth choosne lagi or usne 1 dum se apni jeebh mere munh mein daal di. Main to 1dum se chaunk sa gaya par mujhe achha bhi laga to main ushi jeebh ko bhi apne moonh se hi kheench kheench kar choosne laga.or jub bahut dair ho gayi to usne mujhe 1dum se dhakka diya. Main to sach mein girte girte bacha. Maine kaha kya hua mujhe dhakka kyon diya? To wo boli ki bhaiya or kitni deir choosoge? Mere hoonth dard karne lage hain. To maine kaha kyon maja nahi aa raha kya? Wo boli maja to bahut aa raha hai par ab mere honth dard kar rahe hain. Maine kaha kyon ab to main KISS karna seekh gaya na? To boli ki haan baba seekh gaye. Itne mein main uske hoonth fir se choosne laga kyonki in HONEY jaise hothon ko chhodne ka mera dil hi nahi kar raha tha. Or saath hi mere haath kab uski chest(brests) par chale gaye mujhe pata hi nahi chala. Or main. My tunnel walls released a torrent of cum and I felt his tongue at work licking me clean as I collapsed forward onto his chest. He used his fingers to open the lips to torment me more as he cleaned every drop. I opened my eyes and saw his cock standing at attention. I couldn't let that go unattended. Quickly, I moved around on his body so I was kneeling over his cock. I reached between my legs, took hold of his shaft, and started the head into the opening of my pussy. He decided enough was enough and took off his blindfold to watch as I surrendered my pussy to him. I lowered my body onto his cock all the way to the base and just sat there as he smiled up at me. He sat up a little and positioned the pillows behind his back so he was tilted back a little. Then he reached behind me to pull me closer to his face as he put my right nipple into his mouth. He started to suck it as his hips thrust up, driving his cock deep into my cunt. I thrust down as he thrust up, driving his shaft deeper.
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She knew he was right. She was getting too moody, too sour. ‘Just so. Do send me a postcard, right?’ She smiled a little at that. ‘I will,’ she said. ‘Alright.’ She went home and called the office, to find Dr James had already informed her employer. ‘Have a good rest, Barbra,’ he said. ‘It’s high time you found some purpose in life again! How about a month to start with?’ She thanked him profusely, but he didn’t want to hear. Alright, then. A holiday. But where to go? She wondered vaguely for some time, and then she remembered the enthusiastic stories her parents had told her about a holiday they’d had on the Isle of Wight. Barbra had never been there. Why not, she thought, and she booted her laptop to find out. The next morning she packed her suitcase. She leisurely had some coffee, and a friend drove her to the station. She took a fast train to London, a slower one to Brockenhurst and then on to Lymington Pier. When she arrived at Lymington dusk was settling over the trees, and the.

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