Aunty mothathil parka kumthaavaga irupaal.Naan aunty idam pesum pozhuthu oru siru paiyan polave pesuven, appozhuthu thaan en ammavirku entha santhegam...m varathu endru. Sila murai aunty suuthil en kaiyai vaithu nadanthu selum pozhuthu urasiyathum undu.Aunty perithaaga eduthu kola maatargal, aaanal aunty en meethu kaama aasai irupathu pondru oru ariguriyum illai.Naan ena seivathu endru theriyaamal irunthen, oru naal aunty veetil yaarum ilai. Amma ennai aunty thaniyaaga irukiraargal athanaal nee. That made her start working furiously on her pussy with both hands. They were a blur as they rubbed back and forth, in and out and up and down. The splashing sound of her juices mixing with the sound of her moans. And then the orgasm hit. It was crazy. She threw her head back and her whole body went up in an arch as her moaning just got louder and louder. Robert had never seen his wife orgasm with such intensity, hell he had barely ever seen her come at all, so he was glad he was now capturing. "You want to know what I'm wearing?" I know you're going to tell me," I said."I'm wearing a blue polka-dot dress with a white collar," she said. "And white shoes, with ankle straps." Oh. OK." I had expected her to tell me she was wearing Chanel Number 5, or perhaps some other, updated variation on the old Marilyn Monroe tease-line."But -- you're not wearing any underwear, right?" I said."What? Well, of course I'm wearing underwear!" Oh. So -- why did you bring this up?" I asked."I didn't bring. His oversized head was precariously balanced on a long muscled neck. The remains of his shirt were draped over his broadened shoulders like a ragged cape. The garment’s front and arms ripped open in ragged tears, exposing the rising and falling expanse of his enlarged chest and thickened biceps. His underwear, tucked under the base of his jutting nine-inch shaft still held on somehow, its contours bulged obscenely between his legs.“Oh god, Stan, don’t,” she cried as she shrunk behind the stack.
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