Stunning Indian Lover Making Us Horny

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..sissy... good. Fuck me hard ... and fast ... and come in ... my sissyass."Ty was really hammering away at her ass now, getting in two thrusts forevery push back Steffie gave. "That's right, Steffie," he said betweenragged breaths, "Take all of my cock up your ass. That's the way sissyshould be fucked. That's what a sissy's ass is for, isn't it? Beingstuffed with cock? Take it, Steffie. Take every inch of my cock now."His grip on her hips tightened and Steffie knew, instinctively, that hewas about to come. She shoved her ass back against his cock as hard asshe could now, trying to squeeze his cock with her well-fucked hole."Come inside of me," she cried out. "Fill my sissy ass with your hotcum!"Ty lunged forward one last time and she suddenly felt the intense heatand wetness as he unloaded in her ass. His balls were nestled next tohers and she could feel them pulsing as they pumped his creamy loaddeep inside of her. "Oooooooohhhhhhh fuck yeah!" Ty said."Mmmmmmmmmmmmm," was all. The words "meet here" were handwritten beside it. Irecognized the place immediately. Monica wanted to meet me at the BarnesHouse. I almost shouted I was so excited. Then I remembered how Bradleyshoved me earlier. If he found out that Monica and I were passing notesand planning to meet - well, to say things would get ugly would be anunderstatement. Was I ready to face my death over a girl -or at leastreceive a major beating that could easily land me in the hospital? Maybe,or maybe it was time to fight back.-The Barnes House-The Barnes house stood a good distance from the street. I followed thedriveway, weaving through the weeds and grass jutting up from cracks inthe century old pavement, to where the driveway curved to form ahorseshoe. From here the house was still thirty or forty feet away. Istudied the structure presenting itself in silhouette against the night.It was almost too much to believe that Monica was waiting for me inside. I'd never had a girl friend and the closest I.
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Was my mother in pain or... pleasure?Again I flipped to the next image. Finally there she was, the white woman's face. I'll never forget that face. One of total superiority and cockiness, looking on at my mother withering in her bonds as the long white plastic stick pressed harder against her vagina. I still couldn't tell if she was crying or moaning.Why would she be moaning?I looked back at the white woman, who was every bit the age my mother was in the picture. I guessed the both of them were in their late teens, but had no clue where or when this photo really was.I flipped through the next few pictures, five in all. Each one of them similar yet more graphic than the other. One had her thrusting her hips up towards the stick with her mouth wide open. Another had the white girl sitting on her face, nude white thighs hugging the sides of her head still holding the stick firmly against mom's crotch while she pulled mom's stiff dark left nipple with her other hand. I couldn't tell what.

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