Desi Village Aunty MMS Showing Her Action

I begin to work your foreskin, slow and steady, repeatedly exposing your florid sculpted cock-crown to the night air as you try in vain to angle your penis into my mouth. I luxuriate in the way your skin moves over your shaft and the stiff corrugations beneath. I let my hot breath cascade across your virile flesh, a sweet contrast to the cold rain and the cool night air I imagine. I revel in the balletic interplay of form and function, as your foreskin yields effortlessly to my touch, rolling over your glans like an erotic wave displaying your most intimate arousal to the strangers of the night. With my thumb I close off a vein and watch, hypnotised, as the blood comes flooding back once I release the pressure. “Oh God,” I gush, “I love cock!” “I can tell,” you reply, smiling down at my submission. “Do it.” Obediently, I stoop to drag my tongue up the front of your engorged prick, tracing your cum pipe from balls to frenulum drawing an encouraging gasp of approval from above. I can. Her gummy mouth covered his head and she began to suck as though it were a Werther's Original; the sensation was better than anything he had known in his life, until now. The professional, mind-blowing blow job continued for several minutes and, in his state of unsurpassed pleasure, Stephen pushed out of his mind the knowledge of whose lips and mouth were responsible. Twenty-seven or eighty-seven, it didn't matter any more; head like this came along, if you were lucky, once in a lifetime. Evidently sensing his approaching orgasm, Mrs. Atkin removed her skilled mouth from the phallus and stared up at the screwed up face of her carer. When his eyes opened to meet hers, she spoke to him with a matter-of-fact tone, "Now, if you want that every time you come over, you're going to have to do one thing for me - one good, hard fuck." There was so little humour apparent in her face, that he almost laughed but, as he soon came to realise, she was as serious as her demeanour implied. Stephen.
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