Desi Indian Wife Fucked Hard On The Dining Table

Hot sweaty sex... drove me even higher and higher and higher.Eventually, the three within me spurted hot cum into all my openings, but it did not end there. They changed places. The ones who had been inside me were now alongside me, and three of the ones alongside me were now inside me. The tin men could perform almost forever, and I had instructed them to keep going until I was unresponsive... or dead. Hopefully, I hadn’t gone too far, but this was uncharted territory. No Xene had every intentionally forced herself this high.I’m not sure how long they continued, but suddenly I was no longer in my bedroom. I was in a strange room in a strange body sitting in front of an ancient computer that required you to actually look at a screen to see the information. And it required you to do something called typing to enter the information.Somehow I knew how to do all that. And somehow I managed to put this story into writing. I’m starting to fade back now and I haven’t yet given my message to. When he returned, he was not alone and I heard a man clear his throat. Shaken, I realized the photographer was standing in the door way and reaching into the camera bag on his shoulder. ‘Oh my God!’ I yelled, embarrassed as could be, and surprised to find him home so soon. I jumped up to grab my dress, left on the floor across the room. ‘I’m sorry to have frightened you,’ he said, picking it up and handing the dress to me. As I held it over my nakedness, he explained that his project had been delayed by a few weeks and he had decided to return home in the mean time. I started to bolt out of the room, my head bowed in shame, not wanting to look at him. He held my arm and asked me to please wait. With his finger, he raised my head to meet his. Really looking at him for the first time, I noticed his deep eyes and kind smile. He was studying me as well, and finally broke our silence to tell me how beautiful I looked in his chair. He tilted his head, the way that artists do, and pursed.
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