I could feel his penis going soft (I must say he went soft so much faster than my husband, sorry if I keep bringing him into this mix but that is what...I compare all men to) but I didn’t want to move so we just held each other and little bit by little bit his penis slipped out of me. But we still didn’t move and as relaxed as I was some of his sperm started to leak out as well the feel is something like a thick snot but a good snot one that you can play with and again as you might know my. I just cant help but craving it, feeling him splatter me with his sperm. Last night we actually got a little naughtier than usual, I confided. Just the memory of last night was getting me wet again, and I started moving my hands around my belly in big, lazy circles before circling them down to my hips and thighs before coming back up again. My pink bra and skimpy thong just felt so constricting and uncomfortable while I remembered so vividly how I had been ravaged the night before. I was. It had begun to get chilly for a summer’s afternoon. It was England though, and weather was unpredictable. It was nice to have something warm to drink. It also gave me something to do when there was a lull in the conversation. We chatted a little longer, our conversation remaining very shallow. I think both of us were too afraid to ask what we really wanted to, or to talk about our meetings a few years earlier. She asked me plenty of questions about Bobby, and the proud mummy that I was, I. This brought the kinkiness out of me as I woumd get clothes pins, clamping them to my nipples, lay back and stroke my cock, imagining that I was a woman who was caught pleasuring herself by a man who had broken in and she was forced to pleasure him and give him my "pussy".That was my "go to" fantasy while wearing pantyhose. Now every chance I got I'd slip on the pantyhose clamp on the clothes pins and check myself out in the mirror. After admiring how sexy I thought I looked I'd lay down and.
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