Indian Village Housewife Fucked In The Kitchen...

” With a few more thrusts I heard Emma cry out into the room, the expletives she uttered were absolutely necessary as her very essence released all the pent up pleasure, all at once. Emma screamed, bucked, fucked backwards on my cock, slapped the bed with her hands and nearly strangled herself on the rope as she yanked her head backwards in the throes of orgasm. I pulled out the second she took herself over the edge. I panted hard and stared at my cock, willing it to calm down and recover. The words “please don’t spurt” were repeated time and again in my head. Emma on the other hand was tossing on the bed in the throes of orgasm, her body spent with the exhaustion of holding back for so long. Her bodily fluids had thoroughly wet the bed. I looked on in amazement as Emma, slowly but surely, started to recovered. Then it dawned on me. There was only one thing left to do and it had me growling beneath my breath. I couldn’t stop the guttural sounds from escaping. I reached out to pull. She breaks it apart, tossing one to the far side of the bed, and peels back the plastic seal on the one left in her hand. She seems oblivious to him, even though, as he must, he is stroking and kneading the heft of her right buttock and the soft sole of her right foot. Ruby plays with the pudding for a while, dabbing a finger into it, tasting it, pretending to read the nutrition label, turning the container upside down to see if anything will drip out all the while rocking and humming, “Milk, milk, lemonade, round the corner…” “Oh, shit,” he murmurs. “YA GOT THAT RIGHT,” she chirps, and tosses her right leg over his body so that she’s straddling him backwards, her luscious white ass glistening in the lamp light just inches from his face. He knows what he’s in for and he knows it’s futile to resist. He decides to play along. He places both of his hands on the cheeks of her ass and spreads them wide and then hums, “Milk, milk, lemonade…” and she joins in to finish with him,.
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