Indian Uncle Licking His Wife’s Pussy
"So I might talk to your character, starting out like any woman who just happens to be touchy with people. I might put my fingers on your arm while saying something. My touches get longer, more intimate. I start to comment on your appearance. You certainly don't push me away. Sooner or later, I fully expose that boob or boob that's been hanging out of your bra. I might straddle your stockinged thigh and hump a little. Lights out."Will someone please rub me or something to help with tension that I felt just from saying that?" She turned to me. "Kiss me, you fool." In that experience, I vaguely wondered if it was possible for my head to crush between her lips, and the arm she had wrapped around the back of my head. She let go and asked, "what do you think, Gerri?"Gerri leaned back in her chair, turned toward me, spread her legs and then pulled her panties aside, and said, in squeaky little-girl falsetto, "Hell-o. I'm Little Gerri. Mr. Curt, I'm kinda wet. Would you wipe me up, maybe. “Well, what do you suggest, dear sister?”“0.5 is good enough.” Maddi nodded. “Not that it matters, though. The important part is that our genes are being passed on. It’s better if we have an entire recessive futa generation. Nobody will know what’s happened until it’s too late.”“Whatever.” Diana huffed.“You sound like you want to get caught.” Maddi cut her eyes at Diana.“What if I do?” Diana snapped. Her eyes shot across the atrium to the couple she passed. “Look at those lessers over there. Two rutting animals in the street. They so desperately want to spread their lesser DNA, and they’ve no clue why.”“For the same reason. We’re all hardwired.” Maddi returned to her book.“Oh, it’s not—the—same—reason.” Diana snipped with a staccato rhythm. She looked up the busy atrium. It was the standard comings and goings of college kids. Studying, jogging, eating. But Diana always saw more. “Look at them, Maddi.” She scowled. “They used to scare me so much. I’d keep my cock tucked between my.
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