Mumbai Priya Aunty Collection 1

We get to the park she is wearing my sweatpants and sneakers that I brought for her. What a nice sight to see her ass in those sweatpants while her ass is moving from side to side as she is peddling down the path way. I then started jogging faster to keep up with her. As we hit the two mile point. I tell her to ride ahead as I have slowed down. She just peddled ahead fast then came back to me. She repeated this routine several times. Then I was finished my 5 miles. We walked back as I was rolling her bike at my side. She kept falling behind as we walked. I asked her what’s up. What are you looking at. She said your ass. She said I am going to treat you to something nice one of these days. I said don’t get no ideas nothing is going into my ass, you got it. We got back to my place and indira took a shower and I drove her home. I asked her if she needed me to pick her up in the morning for work. Indira said that would be real nice if it’s no trouble. I said how about 8:30. She said. He forced her legs apart and savagely drove in his already hard manhood. His thrusts were vicious as he vent his anger on her, his grasping hands bruising her soft boobs, his tool hurting her dry tunnel. ‘Please! Please! Be gentle.’ He ignored her pleas as he emptied himself into her. ‘Together at last,’ he murmured as he finally withdrew. He untied her arms. ‘Never again will I let another man have you.’ That was a fantasy she could relate to, there were times when she could wish to be that woman, to rouse that emotion and desire in a man, to be a vehicle for his pleasure and release. Not that she thought it very likely in this age of women’s lib, with men too cowed by social pressures to allow their true natures to surface, deprived of the self esteem that is a prerequisite for the confidence required to satisfactorily take and service a woman. Long ago she had decided that men were designed to dominate women – at least in bed. That’s what she wanted, needed, a man with the.
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