C14 Are you a pervert

Are you a pervert

I stood at the door of the room, knocked, and the door opened. She reached out and pulled me in, then slammed the door.

My hand was held by her. She looked at me and then suddenly jumped onto my body. Heavens, I lifted her up when I used a bit of strength. She hooked onto me tightly. She was always so mischievous. I put my arms around her buttocks, the round, lovely, springy place that made me feel good, and I held her, and I kept touching and pinching her. She was being squeezed by me with an "Ah" sound, in my arms like a caught fish, rolling around, dishonest, laughing.

She took my face in her hands and held it in hers and looked at me from above and said, "You've become a man! "I thought you were going to leave me alone, but after you left that day, I was in such a hurry!" She pressed my head against her chest, and her breasts made my face look as if it had been blown by a cold summer wind.

Her chest was so strong that I couldn't catch my breath. I frowned and said, "I'm actually quite regretting that I shouldn't have said that to you that day. You know, I don't want you to be that kind of person, but now, I don't want to ask any more. That's your own problem!"

She laughed and pressed my head back against her breasts and said, "I'm comfortable with your beard!" And with that, she rubbed my head against her breasts.

I laughed at her, I stuck her hard and said, "Are you a freak?" She stroked my short hair with her hand and said, "I don't know why, but I miss you! I sometimes think strangely, I, this big sister is in love with you! "In fact, she is not old at all, she only deliberately said so.

"God, is that strange?" I hit her on the bottom with my hand, and she happily grabbed me from below. She's a naughty woman, how can you imagine that she's involved in drug trafficking? Even on that day, when she admitted it, I didn't quite believe it.

She stopped talking, looked at me quietly, and suddenly there was a look of sadness in her eyes, and then she said coquettishly, "Put your hand in mine!" I did, and put my hand in, and felt between the petals, and she held my lips tightly in her mouth, and then her tongue came in, and I carried her to the hotel table, and she sat on it.

I undress her, and her skirt comes off, and she sits on it and unties my pants, pulling them back on to her lap, not quite taking them off.

The table wasn't very high, so I separated her legs and went in. I lowered her against the wall, and I did that to her, and she was excited, her hands on the table, her body proactively supporting me, shaking, trying to be closer, closer.

Her white thighs were raised so high, so long, that I was most excited when I saw her thighs raised so high that her breasts swayed slightly in front of her chest.

The two of them were like cheerful deer, enjoying themselves to their heart's content.

There was no air conditioner in the room, and we were all sweating, which was more exciting, and we did it for a long time, and I didn't, and she was so exhausted that she gasped, "Get behind me!" and then she got down from the table and turned around and put her hand on the table and looked back at me and said, "Hold my hair!"

I took it all in, then turned behind her and stroked her back with one hand while the other gently tugged at her hair and went in, one by one, like riding a horse and pulling the reins. It was so enjoyable.

If I could see her like this again, I think I would come to a climax right away, and every man would feel this way when he sees the woman he loves being entered from behind. It is a kind of conquest, a kind of conquest to see a woman who can be serious during the day, now naked, tamed by you, crawling forward as soon as you force her, and needing you as soon as you stop.

This time I got there first, and from behind, I wasn't that long, I pressed myself against her, pressed her down on the table, and gasped into her ear, "I think I'm in love with you, really!"

She didn't speak, her eyes closed. I stroked her hair and said, "How nice it would be if you were a normal woman!"

Maybe I shouldn't say it. She turned around in my arms, then faced me, looked at me, and squatted down. Mine had come out of her, and there was liquid on it. She was squatting down madly, holding it in her mouth, and I said, "Is it dirty?"

She shook her head as she helped me, and I suddenly felt a little sorry for her, her appearance, her unwillingness to be my slave.