You are sitting at the other end of the room, smiling, looking into your eyes, turning an empty mug in your hands. I left the room, asking you to look at the cabinet door with my linen on the shelf. Thin black lace, pink satin, vulgar mesh – look, it’s all for you. I know that when you see this, your tension will increase along with your sensitive member. The veins on the throat, arms and legs ache sweetly. You will imagine me in this black with ribbons, kneeling in front of you, lustfully catching with my lips and licking the head of your swollen, quivering penis. Or in this green and gold – how you lie on me with all your weight and lick-lick, infinitely sweet my protruding little nipples, while one hand massages and squeezes the white tender breasts in turn, and the fingers of the other hand, gently pushing back the wet lace from a hot pussy, frenziedly fuck her with one long musical strong finger. Or in these red panties – as you thrust your hand under them, squeeze my ass until it hurts, kissing my stomach, thrusting your tongue under the tissue, licking the swollen clitoris, increasing convulsions with each pressure. Or in this openwork bra – what if in it I snuggle up to you when you fuck me from above, slowly, teasing, shallowly, so that I wriggle under you, stretch, but could not push deeper so that the lubricant drips down my thighs , and you collected it with your fingers and licked them, looking into my eyes. How much there was provocative shameless underwear and how your head was spinning and your penis was swollen with blood under your tight jeans, in anticipation of a wet hole, just nearby, shuddering and opening from every movement. At this time, I was sitting on the floor in the toilet and pulling off my pants, stroking with my fingers this very aching hole requiring affection and sweet dick. I thought about what your penis tasted like, how warm smooth large head he had, what it would be like, looking into your eyes, to walk along the bridle with swollen lips, smeared with your sperm, and then along the wreaths with a soft, relaxed wet tongue, lick the head, russian mistres cover eyes, lower your hands, stroking your breasts with one, and inserting your fingers into your pussy with the other, fuck yourself with them while you drive a member over my face. What a pumped-up elastic ass you have, how great it will be to squeeze it when you push me right up to my balls, how my lubricant will flow down these balls. And how else they will spank me in a big way on big bright lips, causing shudders and uncontrollable moans. I think about your whole young tanned body – about every finger: hands cause wild excitement in me in one look – I know that they will be as I allow them to be – arrogant shameless demanding strong or careful and affectionate. You yourself are just like your hands. Hands … These fucking protruding tubercles of veins that you want to circle your tongue, breathe quickly and shallowly, choking with excitement, while rubbing your current pussy against your shin. Feeling tense muscles with my lips, stiffening in a spasm of compression and tension – I know what will happen after you undress me to the end and your penis rested against my trembling stomach. Yes, you are a good, correct boy who respects women and will never do anything against their will. And if I ask you, if I say that I want to feel what you think, what is read in your depraved eyes, when you look at my raised nipples under a sweater, lick your lips and try to restrain yourself so as not to fuck me right there in the elevator when you carefully walk home.
- MHP’li İlknur Fidan’a eski eşinden şiddet
- MHP’den, Lütfü Türkkan’a tepki: İstifa edip, ihraç edilmeli