Finaly She Agreed When Her Husband Is Away For Week Fumpa
That cock is mine now, and I want it nice and wet. I want you to drool all over your cock baby. Not spit, I mean drool. Save up a nice big load of spit in your mouth, and open it. Let it fall off your tongue and drip onto your cock; let it run down your chin and fall onto your pathetic dick. Drip, drip, slut. Get it nice and wet for me. Once you have sufficiently coated your cock with saliva, you may continue. That's right, whore, I'm going to let you touch your cock now. But only with one finger. You may attempt to pleasure yourself however you wish, but you are only allowed the use of your index finger. That's right, slut, rub your spit all over your dick; smear it around with your finger. Try desperately to get as much pleasure out of that finger as possible; rub up and down the shaft, swirl it around the head, touch underneath the tip, massage the base of your penis. But it's not enough. Of course it isn't. You're an insatiable slut, and one finger isn't enough to get you off. Did my mother actually know what type of cruise this was? If so, did that mean she had sex with animals before? And what about the rest of my family? Were they in on it too? All those questions made my head throb. That, combined with my seasickness told me I was in desperate need of release. Sexual release. I eyed the feline for a second before reprimanding myself for even thinking of giving bestiality a try. But there was no denying how perversely enticing it was. Still, I knew I could not make such a major decision in my current state. I first had to get rid of my arousal. And the best way to do that was to finish what I had started before discovering the perverse nature of this cruise. Leaving the cat behind, I returned to the master bedroom. Unfastening my bathrobe, I let it slide to the floor. Now fully naked, I climbed onto the bed and lay down upon its soft surface. As my hand traveled to my labia, my eyes instinctively traveled to the painting on the wall. It took a few.
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