I click on those that intrigue me. The ones with purple hair, or tattoos, or piercings, I ignore. I really hate skanky.So I'm looking at a woman with ...er top on. She might be twenty, or she might be fifty. Because she's a woman, she can't seem to point the camera at what we actually want to see, and she thinks we are more interested in her hair or her dancing, or the cushions on the bed, and we are all silently saying "Take your fucking top off!"Eventually, she will take her top off and sit. His cock always satisfied her. His dong seemed twice the size of her husband's not quite five inches. Her husband, yes, faithful and hardworking Herbert. She loved him still even after so many years, but she needed Michael too. Did she love the man lightly snoring beside her? Probably, in a way. She let her gaze wander down to his flaccid cock: it sure was big, even after three go 'rounds. They'd been at it virtually since he'd arrived six hours earlier. Herbert at work and Michael at work on. .. like." "Oh Billy. But you like girls, don't you?" ..."Yes John, like you do. But I like you too, John. More than just a friend." "What should we do about it?" "I want to please you." He held me in his strong arms. I hugged him back. He leaned his head down to me and I turned my face up to him. He put his lips on mine. Kissed me. I kissed him back. Fervently. My hero. Now I could admit it to myself. I had a crush on him. I wanted him to want me. And he did. I melted in his arms as his tongue. Back inside, she looked at our meal, and picking up the chocolate mouse, told me that she knew what to do with this. “Get undressed”, she ordered. Of course I obeyed, and following her instructions, lay back on the bed. She took several spoonfuls of mousse and spread them around my genitals, all over my groin, cock and balls, and grabbing a towel from the washbasin, made me slid eit under me, so she could slop another spoonful down over my asshole. That felt cold, but soon forgotten as she.
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