Semua Bab On My Knees, Daddy: A Compilation of Short Stories : Bab 151 - Bab 160

Sienna leaned back against Marco’s bare chest on a soft nest of duvets from our bed that they had spread out on the lawn in the sunlight. She was naked. She kissed him with hungry pecks, their bare bodies sliding against each other with a familiar ease. Marco’s tattooed biceps flexed as he slid his hands with deliberate laziness over her bréásts, his fingers passing roughly over her nípples, then gently, grasping her throat as he nuzzled her neck and ear. Sienna sighed and kissed him again. My cóck was already stiffening, and I wondered how wet she was. Her legs were spread open now, knees bent, as Marco’s hand wandered up the insides of her thighs. His fingers made slippery sounds when they entered her, and she gave a staggered gasp. Her lips pressed against him as h

My Wife's Cóck Crew (2) As I ground my ćock against her, Vivienne calmly said, "Look here, pool guy, I told you no more of that. Julian will be home soon. Go. If he catches you, you are a dead pool boy." She teased. I laughed. "You know we do not have a pool, right?" "That does not mean I do not have a pool boy," she said, spinning around in my arms. We shared a long, heated kiss. "I missed you today, but the game was fun," I said. "I didn't miss you. I had the pool boy," she replied, her voice low and teasing. "I told Malik that you were not interested in a date with him. I did it in front of the guys, and he got a lot of crap from them. It blew his whole game, so he bought

My wife’s cóck crew (4) “Hey, Cameron, you can knock, but you can't come in!” Vivienne laughed. When he pressed his cóck against her and tried to push inside, she gyrated her hips, causing him to fail. She laughed again. Cameron laughed too. “Vivienne, I always knock, and I always get in.” He knew the game was on. He made several other attempts to rub his cóck up and down her pússy lips and try to enter, but each time, my wife wiggled her ass and blocked him. She laughed. Cameron had made at least eight attempts to get inside her, all failed. I could tell he was getting a bit frustrated. His cóck was sticking straight out, veins bulging along its length. His balls were at lea

My name is Selene Hartwell, and before anyone tries to guess how I ended up married to a famous Black semi-pro golfer, I will tell you the truth myself. It started the night I looked across a crowded country club and felt a pull I could not explain. I remember the exact second Harold Whitmore tapped my shoulder and introduced me to Draven Cole. I still remember the quiet thrill that rolled through me when our eyes met, as if something in me recognized something in him. I remember wanting to step back, walk away, act normal, anything, because my body was reacting before my mind could catch up. I had no intention of wanting a man like him. Yet there I was, already imagining how he kissed, how he touched, how he might ruin my composure without even meaning to. He smiled with a boyish charm that I felt in my stomach.

The Black Golfer And His White Slút (3) He did not ask again. So I opened my legs for him and then sat cross-legged in front of him. He looked down between my thighs and saw the little wet spot in the center of my panties. He moaned again as I moved my hand faster up and down his shaft. I pushed down at the base of his cóck and stretched the skin around the head until it was as tight as it could get without hurting him. It made his cóck as long and hard as it could possibly get. While I held him at the base, I stroked him with two fingers and my thumb just under the swollen head. He told me how good it felt and I smiled at him. I knew he could see the small bulge in my panties where my pússy was pressing out. I have a nice fat pússy and as I continued to work his cóck it grew puffier.&nbs