Sanya Aunty’s Group Sex Party

”His growl turned to a rumble, like something large and unknown pulled from oceanic depths. He slapped his hard length against her ass.“I need your cock,” begged Lena. She arched her back, presenting her ass. She sunk fingers into both her holes, crying out like a bobcat in heat, her cries doubling as his tongue lapped her fingers, and soon he was biting at the hot skin of her ass, tearing into her, insatiable. With a rush of cold air, his tongue and lips were gone, replaced by his palm against her ass, his fist gripping her hair, and as she screamed “Take me” felt his cock against her tight hole, throbbing, desperate for entrance. She took his thick member in hand and slid it in, the air alive, the scent of sex mixing with the smells of the burning city. Somewhere north of the roof a devastatingly large fireball lifted traffic-light-red into gray sky: a tanker or a fuel refinery. Minutes later the heat and noise rushed past them, but they were too far gone to care. His balls slapped. Slender abdomen, with just a slight swelling, testament to years of mothering, loving, of living. Your gaze would linger at her firm rounded hips, framing her pelvis, with her trimmed and closely cropped pubes leading as if an arrow to her womanly folds. So, I have described her, right? Why wouldn’t the boy stop as if frozen?And, of course, there was Sandra. Very much the mirror of her mother, built on a smaller chassis, fewer laugh lines, less living behind her. I did not know if Brent had ever had quite this view of my daughter. I had not, myself, and found the comparison to my wife quite flattering to both women. I could readily imagine how a younger man, less experienced in the company of women, might be transfixed by the sight presented to him. For me, well, I was “rising to the occasion”, the visual stimulation quite vivid. Brent, it appeared, had all he could do, wrenching his gaze from my wife, to my daughter, and again back to my happily naked wife. Kathy wriggled for his.
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