דודה מֶרחָץ חבוי מצלמת

“Bella, you indian know parties aren’t my thing.” “I do,” she smiled, “but we gotta get you out! Maybe you’ll even find a girl!” “Bella,” I whined, a signal of my defeat. She flashed a triumphant smile at that, and gave me the details of the party. “Don’t worry Zack, I know you’ll enjoy it,” she said desi with a wink as I departed. Now, what the hell? Is she into me? I was beyond confused now, but I sped home to prepare. I hopped in he shower and scrubbed every inch of my body. I stepped out, dripping wet and dried off before looking at my naked body in the mirror. Everyone does, I know you do, don’t lie. I was fit enough, I guess, I was skinny, with a little definition in my chest and arms. Her hands were indian under the table and my imagination was telling me she was currently running her hand(s) over her, or my wife's, smooth hairless mounds. Like many futas, she didn't wear a bra. I scrambled to find my clothes. I won't say anything to anybody about us. I strutted into the flow of the mall's customers, my pussy getting teased by those lipstick tubes shifting inside of me. I groaned, wondering if I could come just from walking around with stuff buried in my twat. Even Officer Joe, Fred, and I got in line for pizza. It will change the world in such profound ways. It took several seconds for the waves of pleasure to subside. The men jumped down desi from the Jeep and a hand reached out to stroke his erect and very stiff cock. As we carried them back to their crib, one of them began to cry, giving a tiny rodent-like squeal. Within a few seconds of each other, two more mouths cover my tits, soon concentrating on my stiff nipples. I can hear her trying to restrain from the pleasure so I start rubbing faster to force her to accept it.