Indian Mom Bathroom Sex With My Best Friend In Hotel mp4 porn

My long cock pounds into you, making your pussy throb with an even more intense heat. Never had sex been like this before, so intense and so erotic that you think you might die from it.I am making small guttural moans deep in my throat, my throbbing cock sliding into your wetness, so deep that I can feel your womb. I grip your hips harder, lifting you slightly at an angle, sliding into you even deeper, making you gasp in almost pain. Then I am smiling, watching my reflection in the mirror as I continue to fuck you, this woman I barely knew but who had seduced me with nothing more than a pink dress on.You cry out repeatedly, your nails scouring my back, for you can feel the orgasm rising up inside of you, like a hot spear. You can see your legs open and wrapped around me, your pink heels still attached to your feet and it is one of the most erotic things you have ever seen. That was all it took to send you over the edge. You jump, your body shaking all over, little cries stuck in your. I’d just fucked Mom’s brains out while she screamed filthy words of encouragement to me. It was going to take me a while to believe it.It felt like ten or fifteen minutes had passed before she re-emerged from the bathroom releasing a cloud of hot steam with her. She’d slipped on a pair of skimpy lime green panties and a faded baby tee with a picture of the Rolling Stones tongue on the front. Her wet hair was tied back in a pony tail. Somehow, she still managed to look a million dollars. Her bronze, stacked figure jiggled as she walked across the room. “Hey, Teddy,” she said, turning to face me with a playful grin on her face. She was in high, almost girlish spirits. It was as though a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders now she’d finally given in to temptation. “Guess what?” she asked.“What?”“I checked this morning,” she said, “and you’re now looking at a thirty-five..” She cupped her hands proudly under her C cups and pressed them together.“…twenty-four…” Her.
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