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Not with her, Prestira. She’s not Alkandi, Zander. You’ve Hardcore let that ghost ruin your real life; don’t let her ruin your sex life. Now get your ass over there and punish your daughter, Daddy, or I’m getting Uncle Brock up here, and you can act out your cuckold fetish fisting in the corner. Don’t write checks your ass can’t check. I’ve seen what Uncle Brock’s packing, and he wouldn’t be satisfied with just his niece. You’d be in a wheelchair. Yavara’s hips were swaying back and forth as she looked up at me feet from her consumption. “Daddyyyyy, Mommy says you have to discipline me for being such a naughty girl. Are indian you going to come over here and punish me, or are you just going to send me to my room?” Yavara said in a baby voice, her lips pouting, her eyes begging me to fill her. Her breasts had freed themselves from her bodice, and were now pillowed against Prestira’s thighs. I watched my girlfriend lower her head. Her mind was oozing with lust as she watched herself being mutilated in front of an entire room of jerking-off men. “Clinton indian Elliston the Second,” he read and handed me my diploma. Dimillah kept pointed attention on the glans. “Voon” she insisted again. By that time a middle-aged couple had feet come in and were looking round. The Field Marshall raised his white brows a fraction. You have taken me in as if I was your daughter. Her anguished cries were muffled by the huge dildo jammed in her mouth, but her body was in spasm, heaving fisting and twisting, her hips jerking frantically as she reached her orgasm. “Mom, squat above her face and have her ream your ass. Each boy had their shorts around their ankles in about 1 second flat and they really surprised granny and Lynette with what they had to show. I personally would prefer Hardcore you too, but I still need to tell Max about this, and who knows, he may just leave me, which scares me.” Gwen said with a resigned look on her face.