Bareback Stranger indian porn

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" I had no right to get antsy about your date with the doc. I just don't want to see you get all hot about some guy and have him mess with you." He reached out and tucked a wisp of her hair behind her ear."Apology accepted." Jenna said and then sat back and smiled."Well, don't you have something to say to me?" He let his big hand slide down and rest on her shoulder."Such as?" She gave him her most innocent expression of confusion."Jenna," he growled."Okay, geesh. You can be such a child some days." He growled again, his hand tightening just slightly on her shoulder. "Okay, damn. I'm sorry I beat up on your precious piece of junk car." Piece of junk!" The outrage on his rugged face had her breaking into peals of laughter, unable to contain it anymore. She put her hand on top of his and squeezed as he started spouting curses at her."Okay!" she chuckled. "It's not a piece of junk. It's the sexiest he-man car any man could possibly be lucky enough to have. And you are a God when you drive. You have a fantastically soft touch with your hands and your mouth and I haven’t had as strong a climax as that for years’. I told him I had never had anything like that in my life and the feelings were utterly indescribable.We lay there for a while recovering and eventually got dressed. I had not realised how long we had been playing with each other and was thankful there was no customer meeting to go to so that we had been able to enjoy a full unhurried session together, We spoke very little on the way back partly through being drained but also I was re-living these new actions and sensations and marvelling how good sex could be.With summer drawing into autumn the opportunities to go to the wood became fewer but we managed another session on the pretext of a (fictitious) customer meeting. Another opportunity arose when there was a last hot spell before autumn set in and I was again selected to accompany the sales manager to a customer meeting. I was looking forward to this so much.
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‘I’m leaving you……’ Closing the closet she walked over to the bed. Their bed. The bed where they had lain, first as young passionate lovers, newly married, then as busy parents grabbing sex between caring for the children and building his career, and finally as almost strangers, laying next to each other in a barren expanse of stillness. Sitting on the bed she picked up the golf club, from the usually pristine duvet, now red with his blood, smeared with blood, red on white. Just like their wedding. White and red roses, her bouquet smelt sweet, her dress was pretty, he had watched her walk up the aisle a look of love in his eyes, her heart filled with happiness. ‘I’m leaving you……’ He played golf each Saturday and Sunday. Gone all day, leaving her to sit in the big house, the tidy house, the silent house, the pristine house. All alone. ‘I’m leaving you……’ He had met the woman there. At the club. She played golf. She was young, he had told her that she was young, vibrant, unlike.

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