StayAtHome Nude Desi Selfie

Every Sunday morning he reached out for you. You lay and watch the ceiling. Hoping it will go by quickly. Feeling a hard stick poking in your back. Listening to his grunting. Noting once more that he has no concern for your feelings. For your pleasure. None whatsoever. Sunday morning hell. Every Sunday morning. Count the cracks. Wait for him to be done. Pretend you enjoy it. Try to smile. No, you are not sure why you ventured out. But venture out you had. And within an hour you were lost. The forest was thick and the sky so dark. What had been lovely little brooks transformed into raging and threatening torrents. Water driving down from the mighty cliffs into the sea. At first you thought of crossing. You had to cross to get back home. And with the gathering darkness your need to feel the warmth of home was growing. As the storm knitted its fury you began to think that at a time like this even John’s arms would feel warm. Well, perhaps not warm. Not exciting. But at least safe. And. “Enough,” I said after a few minutes, feeling battered and bruised, I suggested we all had a drink. I could feel that I was getting more in control and went to refrigerator and pulled out a few beers and the lads sat back at the table drinking but still staring at me as I walked about the room picking up my tattered panties, top and bra and stashing them in a cupboard. Mr. Little turned his chair away from the table and ordered me too kneel on the floor in front of him while he unzipped his trousers and pulled his cock out, he grabbed me by the hair and forced my face down towards his crotch I grabbed his cock in my hand and immediately though Mr. Little was not the right name for him. It was not so much the length but the width of the thing, I could hardly get my hand around it. I licked his cock from end to end and circled the head with my tongue tantalizing every inch of him as he got harder and harder I gradually took more and more in my mouth, and squeezed his balls at the same.
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