Indian Wife Boob Pressing

Tom was sat in the fitting room opposite with his throbbing cock in hand. It had all got too much. I started to weaken. I loved Tom’s cock. It was thick and throbbing and begging to be sat on. I walked into Tom’s fitting room in a sexual daze. I wasn’t thinking about where I was, who was there or getting caught. All I wanted to do was slowly lower myself onto Tom’s raging stiffy. I lifted my dress revealing my tight wet pussy. Tom’s hand was clamped firmly around his dick. I teased him by slipping my fingers over my glistening pussy. I could tell that he was about to shoot his load and I wanted his cum pumped deep inside of me. I spread my legs either side of his and gently lowered myself.Just the tip of his throbbing cock was inside me. I loved to tease him. It felt so warm. I could tell by his deep breathing that he wanted his cock deep. Deep inside me. Nestled tightly in the warmth of my over-excited pussy. With a sudden thrust, Tom forced me onto his lap until I could feel his. ’ ‘Now that we understand each other, where can we finish this conversation?’ We were smiling and obviously joking-flirting. I was old enough to be her father (and if I had gotten dispensation to marry at age fourteen, her grandfather). She wore no ring, but may have taken it off while performing. More importantly, I had given Charlotte my word of honor 40 years ago, If a man’s word of honor is worthless, what’s the rest of him worth? Charlotte and I agreed from the inception. No physical violence, no fucking around, any of that, the other is gone, no second chances. Just before we met, she had left a ten-year, extremely psychologically abusive, relationship with a Class-A piece of shit disguised as a man. He had cheated constantly, raped her frequently, and impregnated her so she had to get an abortion, which almost killed her. But for the fact I would have gone to jail and lost her, I would have killed the son of a bitch. Anyway, God took care of it. The bastard died later of.
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