Indian Woman Giving Perfect Fellatio Wild Love Making

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And all the lights in the place changed and the center stage light up and bam the music restarted, on to the stage walked, not danced but walked this woman in her 30’s not a raging beauty but damn find looking anyway. And damn she was a pro and it was hot there was not a softy in the house. Now if you have never been in a strip club you tip the dancers, those are the rules I didn’t make them up you just do it. But unlike most of the girls she walked around the bar top to get them, that’s when Red noticed that the regulars would pull their beer cups off the bar to tip her and as she had a bit to go to get to our side I kept watching and sure enough to the man they pulled their cups. When she got around to our side Buda had pulled his cup and put a 5 in his mouth for her to pull out with her teeth, Red pulled his and stuck a 5 in her thong, I didn’t have a cup but I tipped her a 5 she pulled up her sweaty tit and I put my bill under it. Nice tits.Mark well he was buzzed and focused on. I slowly unzipped the dirty coveralls I had worn. I bent down at the foot of the bed exposing my big tits within my bra.I slowly peel my coveralls off my body dancing to the beat of the music. I danced before him in just my bra and panties. I reached behind myself unhooking my bra. I lowered it slowly exposing my big breasts to him. Jack’s cock started to dance on it own as he watched me.“Those tits are lovely Ann,” Jack said to me staring at my tits.I scooped one up lifting it to my mouth. I stuck my tongue out flicking at the nipple making it grow hard. I dropped my tit and lifted the other one licking at it’s nipple until it was hard as well. I squeezed my tits together pinching and pulling on my nipples as I swayed to the music. Jack’s hand went to his cock and his started to milk it with his hand.I dropped my tit from my hand and turned my back to him. I slowly wiggled my ass from my panties shaking my ass at him as I did. I turned back around to show him my hairy pussy as I.
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. With each of her orgasms they reached into her soul, into her innermost private mental space, and squeezed her and shook her to the core.The questioning itself, conducted by a man in a business suit with a notepad, was mundane. During her undercover work she had found out some surprising things that the regime would have wanted to know. But he was not interested in that; he simply wanted false confessions, as to matters she knew nothing about, to use against political opponents. She knew the answers he wanted but refused to give them. Don't become a pawn of the regime. On that, her instructions had been very clear: Don't become a pawn . . .So after each explosion of her nude, sweating body she was allowed to catch her breath, and the questions were asked again, with the threat of further "techniques" if she refused, and she would again refuse, and again the tongues and dildos would attack her, and again she was dragged up over the crest of a loathsome orgasm, the spasms.

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