The sounds of his flesh to hit my flesh was like who suddenly stood up and began to applaud to a desperate talker. Slap…… slap…… slap…
At some point, I stopped counting and just watched as the salami, which he held tightly by the bottom, turned like a catapult mechanism, punishing my rose garden. I itched to see myself through his eyes as he gazed at my small, perky tits, my hard nipples, my soft shoulders, my slender arms, my flat stomach, my femininity completely shaved and cleaned except for the width of a thumb, my nicely curved thighs and calves. You fucked me with a psycho?..”
I thought my dad must have handcuffed him to the kitchen table before he came back to me. A thin stream oozed from my fount, laking in my puckered little hole. “Is it good?…” asked, always like to get my approval. Even though I stretched my mouth to the limit, he pushed his barely fitting cock straight in. My chin was tucked between my tits, the skin of my stomach folded and overlapped like a towel. “That maniac used his cock like a butcher’s meat mallet to beat your pussy into softness…” said, as face lit up with lust in the moonlight.
