Indian Slim Bhabhi’s Home Sex With Her Devar

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I stayed in position with my legs over my head. My ass was gaping and full of cum. His cum was on my taint, anus and crack, with even more deep inside of my rectum and colon. My goal was to keep my legs up and get the cum to go deeper into me and stay there, but he actually grabbed my ass and pulled it down and told me to push out the cum because he wanted to see. So I pushed and eventually the cum squirted out. It felt like I was peeing from my ass. He gave my butt one more squeeze then got up and got dressed.Conclusion: It was really, really good. Easily the best sex I've ever had. I didn't know if I would, but I really like being fucked. We actually waited about twenty minutes then fucked again and it was just as good. Beforehand I cleaned out my butt with water and tested myself with a plug, and we had zero fecal issues at all, even when I pushed the cum out it was all cum and no brown! The only negative is my butt is sore afterward and I really am not sure I could get fucked. You bring your other hand up to my breasts, running your fingertips lightly over the soft mounds of my cleavage. I let out a sigh as you cup a breast in your hand, realizing I don’t have a bra on, you roll my nipple between your fingertips through the material of my dress. You slip the straps off my shoulders and break off the intense kiss, kissing along my cheek to my ear, sucking on the lobe a little and blowing gently, sending a chill through my body. You kiss your way down my neck and over my bare shoulder, making your way down to the rise of my breast and looking up at my face, I have the cutest smile and you lift your head back up and kiss me again. You move your hands from my nipple and stomach and into my own, squeezing them softly, letting me know you’re there for me, you break the kiss off slowly and smile down at me. You stand up pulling me with you and a look of clear disappointment is shown on my face, you let go of one of my hands, rubbing my cheek, reassuring me,.
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There was no one to whip Erica Bradford, though, so she had to whip herself. She didn’t use straps, a belt, cane or a switch. She used her own passions. By the time she returned home - she couldn’t go back to school - she was, again in her mind, beaten almost bloody and senseless by her own mental cat o’ nine tails.Her litany of self confession was endless. She had been stupid. She had been rash. She had been weak. She had been stubborn. She had succumbed to the lure of the flesh. The list went on and on. But uppermost in her mind was the fact that she had subverted her own principles and now she was being made to pay for it.Part of her anger and confusion was because, as a feminist, she had always supported a woman’s right to choose. Only three years earlier she had been elated when Roe v. Wade had been decided in the interests of women just like her. Of course, at that time, her reaction had been ideological. Now, however, it was personal. And that was the primary problem Erica was.

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