Comments (0 comments)
  • He took her in her arms and kissed her. “That was fucking incredible,” he said. “You fuck like a goddess. I want us to pussy-eating do some more of this.” “You better,” Barb said, as she tied her wrap in front. “Is the coast clear?” Zach cracked the door and took a look. “Yes,” he said. “All reverse-cowgirl clear.” “Good.” She power-kissed him with her tongue tickling beautiful-body his throat and her fingers tickling his crotch. Then she put her mouth up to his ear. “You’re a hell of a fuck yourself,” she said softly. She sucked and nibbled his earlobe briefly and stepped through the door. Zach watched her walk across the family room and down the hall, headed for the cowgirl bathroom. They hadn’t been caught. Everybody was outside and the music was still playing. The sun getting low and all of the husbands and boyfriends would be showing up soon. Zach went upstairs to take a shower. Doggy-style Zach didn’t hang around. He left the party because he didn’t want to say or do anything stupid around Barb to give them away. “Apparently so. � � � Licking the head of Benjamin's big dick. beautiful-body She even fucked three guys at once, simply because she was told to! I start to get a little cowgirl scared at the thought of the pain that could cause, but I know I can’t really do anything about it. It didn’t take him long before he came inside her. You can surrender it. I denied her request. I groaned, the pleasure surging into my balls. “Naga-bitch,” I spat, seizing onto my reverse-cowgirl anger. If you are with the Doggy-style right person, are doing what you want pussy-eating and live where you want to be, that’s true happiness. I roared in harmony with Kelsey’s ecstatic cry, my limbs locking, my entire body seemingly being pumped out of my tip to sate my daughter’s wanting asshole. I set the camera down and approached her. "What are you?" I'll...” I blushed, my tongue lead again.
  • He is proud of his quick recovery because he doesn’t want to tell her about the spy cameras located throughout their home. He makes a mental note to remove several of them beautiful-body as soon as he returns from deployment. Hopefully before she has a chance to find them on her own. Among the first to go will be the ones covering the bedrooms and bathrooms. He has already seen and learned many things about his family that he truly wishes he hadn’t.He has seen his wife, his daughter, his sons and his even elderly mother masturbating in the showers. Those are personal moments that should have remained private. He has also seen his oldest son masturbating in the downstairs bathroom as he watches something on his cell phone. He has seen Madison and Michael slipping into each other’s bedrooms in the middle of the night. And most disturbing is the footage of Catherine fucking herself with a large dildo while fantasizing about Dr. Cadbury fucking her. It’s distressing to watch Catherine do that, because he himself is guilty of fucking the beautiful Dr. Connie McLemore practically every night. And he is in no position to be critical of her sexual behavior. “Dr. Cadbury can be a bit of an asshole, but I can handle him,” she assures her husband. The personal guilt hangs heavy over both of them. They are both anxious to Doggy-style end the Skype session. “Well…I have an assignment I need to get to so I will sign off until tomorrow night.” He says. “I’ll speak with you again tomorrow night Sweetheart,” she replies before closing down her computer. She is glad to see this Skype session end and couldn’t wait for her shift to be over. She feels much better after clearing the air about Dr. Cadbury. A lot of the constant worry about Cadbury’s harassment is gone already. She can handle him, but can she handle the constant fantasies about fucking her teenage son? I knew the Pixies were messing with me earlier. They waited until I published my first story before bringing me this one. Like all my Celtic stories, some of this is historical fact, some is Irish myth, and some is straight out of my warped and twisted imagination. I will leave it to you to figure out which is which. WARNING! This warning is possibly not needed for this particular story, but I am including it because it is needed for most of my stories. If you decide to read other of my stories make sure that you read the disclosures and warnings at the beginning of each story. All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life. If you are under the age or 18 or pussy-eating do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in cowgirl any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century. Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2018 by The Technician. Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden. It all started very late last summer, or perhaps I should say very early this fall. I was trying to get a very difficult article written on the Celtic myths in which humans become immortal, and my girlfriend, Annie, was feeling neglected... very neglected. I’m normally not one to refuse sex, but I had to get the article finished for my publisher, so I told her that she could speed things up by reading the article and helping me catch significant errors in my grammar or spelling. I didn’t expect her to really understand the Gaelic references or the discussions on how to translate a particular rune, but she was very aware that the epitome of my spelling proficiency is remembering that there is an R in shirt. After a few hours of silent reading, she asked, “So what’s the name for these evil Leprechauns that keep showing up in these myths? You never say what to call them.” I held up a photo of a rune stone and pointed to one of the characters. “That’s it,” I said rather reverse-cowgirl dejectedly. “It is applied only to the children of this one,” I pointed to another rune, “and a member of the Fey.” I pointed to another rune and said, “That rune we know how to translate... more or less. It is usually translated as ‘fairy,’ but a better translation is ‘member of the Fey.’ It’s someone who can claim the fairy mound as their home, and that’s not always what we think of as a fairy.” Annie was still looking confused, so I continued, “Leprechauns are sort of the mules of the fairy world. They are the offspring of good and evil, but they, themselves, are neither good, nor evil. They are... ” I paused searching for the right word. I love metal heads for that reason. “Vampires.” Zander snorted. She stepped toward Prestira, and the witch put an arm around Elena’s matriarchal slave. And with that, I got up and headed for the patio door. I’m not against the idea but I never saw this beautiful-body coming. I increased the pace and she continued to moan. Her head being mushed into the mattress as her creamy, ivory, naked, sweat-oiled ass was high up into the reverse-cowgirl air. Soon, he was dressed only in boxers and an undershirt, and he joined Selina in the cowgirl bathroom. She told us to talk to the beach attendant for the hotel and he can tell us about the amenities the hotel provides. I tapped lightly on the door and heard her say cheerily, “Just a minute dear.” pussy-eating I waited for what seemed like a minute. “I bet they did.” Zoe added. Certainly the kid had gotten a peek at the same delicious bush that he’d filmed a while back. Once, I broke my cardinal rule Doggy-style of not making the first move when her relaxation visits became too far between. What are we to you? But while the sight of her boobs swaying was beyond arousing, my spine simply couldn’t relay those urges to my penis I jumped as I heard the doorbell ring. He’s on our violent crimes team. Well, back then.