Plump Mother’s Hairy Backside Roughly Taken Apart

I could sing sweet lullabies to him in my soft voice, or dirty words, if that’s what he wanted. So eager and playful was his slapping that an outsider would have thought he was a sadistic monkey attacking an anthill with a tree branch. Grabbed my hair, but not to caress it, but to make confront me with his maleness. I raised my rear slightly and I waited for him to bury his stubble face in my nymp-hole and dip his tongue into my nectar again. He pressed his thick lips to my arse and lay into his ritual of kissing, sucking, licking, biting, spitting. But it wasn’t just me who was hurt, my visitor was as devastated as I was. With one hand I weighed one of his bulging sacks. From top to bottom I could see his short hair, shoulders wide enough for me to sit comfortably on, strong biceps, chest muscles bulging like sails, abdomen like a statue, long, well-built legs, and that big thing dangling between them.