Indian Pen Masturbation MMS porn video

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I leaned forward and traced the outline of her cock with my tongue and savored the wet spot covered in pre cum. I pulled her hard cock through the leg of her blue panties and traced the tip with my tongue, I moved my tongue around the head before mapping the shaft with my saliva. I slowly worked over her entire cock with my tongue before wrapping my mouth around the head. I slid my lips over the head at first stopping just on the shaft, slowly I moved up and down taking her deeper with each movement. As my lips meet the bottom of her shaft Sandy moaned, she began slowly fucking my mouth as she moaned and played with her nipples. She moved in and out of my mouth fucking it harder and harder. My cock was rock hard and needed release I broke the rhythm of her hard shaft between my lips and stood. I passionately grabbed the back of her hair and pulled her head back as my lips attacked the front of her neck. I ravished her neck, cheeks and ears with my mouth stopping at her lips, our. Unlike other planets, which usually had one Baron each, this one had split into 5 distinct rival baronies. The culture was very reminiscent of the Earth American Wild West of the 1850’s. When Lisa met with John at the docking bay she was wearing, instead of her usual skimpy purple leathers (her old gang colours), a dowdy coverall boiler suit, tied back hair and no make up. John felt disappointed at this obviously not being a date but a friendly drink, but he also felt relieved. This planet wasn’t known for its liberal attitude to females. There were two bars. The locals, which could be heard from here, and the spacers, which was quieter and more moody. As John headed toward the spacers he felt Lisa tug at his arm to go further down the street. ‘I don’t know about this Lisa,’ ‘We travel all over the place, I want to see some of it. All the Spacers lounges look the same,’ Hover bikes, reptilian wolves and even horses were tethered and parked outside the bar. Lisa pushed him gently.
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Up to this point, I hadn’t really considered the ‘what if he wasn’t queer’ question yet, but based on his apparent interest, I wasn’t going to question what I hoped was sincere interest. We chatted a little, and I was right- he was a construction worker, recently divorced and beaten down by the economy, the typical middle-aged sort who felt like life had little to no meaning any more. I returned his dead pan comments with a cheerful spirit that surprised even me, but they were fueled by the baritone laugh that would escape him whenever I said something especially funny. He got me a few drinks, and by the time we were leaving the bar, I was leaning against him for support. The blood was rushing in my ears, and I remember we stopped a few times for hot, groping kisses behind parked cars and street corners. After he let us into his small apartment, I vaguely noticed how neat it was, and then I was partly-led, partly-carried, partly-dragged into a bedroom where an unmade cot sat.

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