Fucking Hot Indian Girlfriend 6

You scramble to your hip for your handgun and nearly lose your grip, but ha, its still in your hand. You aim at the handle and fire, once, twice, sending a fresh wave of excited cheers through the monkeys above.You slam your shoulder into the broken door and barrel through just as the creature leaps at you.You curse and scramble back on your ass, watching it flail and roar and reach for you, hunger in its dark eyes - but it's stuck. It's too wide, and its body is jammed between the house and the thick fence on its left.It nicks your forearm with the tip of its claw and you curse at it, scrambling further back and finally pulling your rifle off your shoulder. The old thing is rickety, held together with tape and prayers by this point, but it does the job as you point it at the creature’s head and fire.Bang. Bang. Fuck, still moving. Bang.The third shot finally stills the damn thing and it slumps, a furious look still etched into its maw. You breathe heavily and stand, looking at your. Of course, she kept her sins well hidden from her father's ire knowing he would be driven to fearful extremes by her willful ways.In a sense, she had come to appreciate her father's heavy hand with the strap because it made her juices flow shamelessly onto her mother's pristine white sheets in copious strength. She didn't think she could possibly be held accountable for the unintended consequence because she was just following orders and presenting her dirty backside for proper instruction. She knew her mother was well aware of her sinful thoughts from the way she held up the sheets and looked at them with a knowing glance thrown in her direction on laundry day. They had been forced to assume the laundry and cooking duties because of her father's poor judgment in selecting the profitable stocks on the London market.She tried to push her sinful thoughts out of her head but the sound of her father's boots on the stairs made her instinctively push her pussy mound into the pillow.
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