Desi Girl Waits For Lover To Fuck Her Cunt

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Sarah vaguely recalled her father mentioning something about finalizing some kind of corporate merger over dinner the previous night. Apparently he wouldn't be home until late tonight because of it. Not that it made a huge difference. No matter where her parents were, the shadows always came for her at night...It was then that the smell hit her. Sarah immediately grabbed her stomach as her insides seemed intent on escape. She looked up and saw her mother frying bacon. For no reason Sarah could fathom, the smell was noxious, filling the air with a thick miasma of stench. She felt sick, but having an empty stomach there was little danger of throwing up.Instead, Sarah ran back upstairs and flung herself down on her bed, waiting until the nausea had passed. "I must be coming down with something," she said to herself, staring at the ceiling and listening for her mother's impatient call to breakfast, "I should probably just sneak out or something." Sarah?" came her mother's all too. When they grew bored with just titty sucking, Becka took charge and prodded the teens into a 69 position with Melanie on the bottom and Ellie on top. A couple swats to their naked asses for motivation and the teenagers were licking each other’s bald slits.“Get that tongue deeper in that pussy, or else,” Becka warned Ellie. The girl quickly responded by jabbing her hot, wet tongue into her lesbian partner’s slit. Melanie moaned into Ellie’s pussy while her tongue lapped at its glistening, pink interior.Becka kept the girls eating each other out until both had an orgasm. She then maneuvered their bodies so that they were pussy to pussy with their knees up to get as close together as possible. Both teens gasped and shook their heads at the sight of the fat, double headed dildo Becka produced. It was sixteen inches long so that by the time it was fully inserted into the girls, each of their pussies would be filled with eight inches of it.“No, no, that’s too big,” Ellie protested.“Yes,.
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‘Not a chance,’ she said. Quentin ushered them through the door, out of the litter-strewn, seedy bustle of Soho and into the velvet faux-luxury of the cabaret bar. They bought their tickets from the box office, handed their coats in to the cloakroom, and stepped into the small, dimly lit theatre space, full of little round candle-lit tables. To Emma’s relief, she and Rebekah were among the more conservatively dressed patrons. It was the kind of show where the audience was every bit as flashy as the performers on stage. So, despite their generous acreages of exposed, corset-boosted cleavage, Emma and Rebekah were unlikely to draw undue attention to themselves, even in their revealing bustiers and 1940’s hairdos. They made their way to the bar and perused the drinks list. ‘What’s your poison?’ said Rebekah. ‘Triple Sec?’ ‘Just a single for me, please. Or maybe I’ll stick to tap water,’ said Emma sensibly. ‘That wine from this afternoon has gone to my head a little.’ ‘Fine,’ said.

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