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By *B8019 OP Man 13 weeks ago
Harrogate |
I tap my thigh. She skips over eagerly.
Perched on my knee, I pass the brush through her hair, long measured strokes. Preparing her. She knows to not show too much excitement for what’s about to come.
My fist gathers the smooth strands, pulling her down. She settles low, across my lap.
Green tartan rides up, sheer blue thong exposed.
She's cheeky, in all senses.
The brush turns; raises. Ten paddles to each cheek.
They glow, like her spirit.
I take the handle of the brush, grazing across her cheeks following her curves I ease her thighs apart with the handle, the tip rubs against her lips before I ease the hard shaft inside my pussy. (She know it belongs to me now it’s not hers) her needy groans and slight whimper sounds the symphony of her surrender.
Her creamy nectar, tantalisingly sweet, collected, spread through the strands of her neatly trimmed bush as I thrust in and out pushing a little deeper with every stroke. My other hand squeezes and spanks her pert cheeks in time with every thrust.
My cock is hard and now pushing into her hip. I crave to be inside her replacing the brush but it’s too soon. She needs to be begging to be filled, she needs to earn that pleasure.
She is marked. By him. Conditioned. By him. |
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