Indian Desi Sexy Girl 3 Clips Part 3 mp4

She sits, the water splashing over her slender body. Washing down her body with soap, she looks over her body, faint bruises fleck her supple breasts, his markings. She sinks lower into the bath, warm water covers up to her chin, hair floating about her. She shuts her eyes, thinking about the night that waits, his arrival will be soon, she has time to dress and make dinner. Opening her eyes she sits up, scrubbing herself down, her white flesh turning a light pinkish red. She stands, climbing out of the bath, wrapping the large, fluffy white towel around herself, stepping to the mirror and blow drying her hair into the soft ringlets he loves so much. Letting the towel drop she inspects her body, fingers trail along her hard nipples a deep shudder incasing her body. She stops. Flushing with embarrassment, knowing that he will be disappointed now and that she will be severely punished. Leaning forwards she puts her makeup on, careful not to make an error. Walking to the bedroom she. I was so excited imagining him as a Caveman Freddie Flintoff and me as a Moulin Rouge dancer all bustles and stockings and garters and basques or as a sexy air hostess, or perhaps a schoolgirl outfit or, or, or, well anything from a Britney Spears video really. I was so excited I could barely manage to whimper "Yessss" as I surreptitiously slow humped the hand I'd somehow managed to trap between my squeezing thighs. The following week was delicious expectation; wondering every day what 'roles' he might choose for us both, what scrummy super-sexy outfit I'd be encased in, what sort of character I might have to inhabit. I could barely focus daydreaming my days away; even pilates was more of a damp squib than a drippy quim. Would the weekend never cum? Would I ever stop cumming cum the weekend? Saturday morning and there was a lovely package sitting waiting for me on the breakfast bar. My fingers trembled awfully as, with him smilingly watching on, I carefully peeled off the cellotape.
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