Her red plastic headband, Hillary-esque, looks very '50s; it coordinates well with her naturally curly purple hair and the green scales, red flames, and black claws of the dragon tattoo on her shoulder and biceps. When I look up from shucking my pants she's already out of her flowery dress, her Doc Martens, her panties.
Tiny, broad-hipped, narrow-waisted, small-breasted: Dürer's Eve. I liked Lan's narrow hips because my dick felt huge in her cunt, especially when she was on top and I pushed her cheeks together and sque-e-e-e-e-zed her down over me. Sloppy, Lan was, but still tight. No Lan, is Sasha.
Taking a kleenex Sasha cleans off my cock: first a swipe up the shaft then a miniature rasp of rough fibre on my glans.
"I love my French culture and they are trying to take my other culture away from me."
I don't want her on top penetrated grinding her pelvis against me and making me come by pressure or heat or rotation. I do want to see hear see and feel her cunt sluice up and down me, and I want to hear her ass slap my thighs so I've got. To. Get. Her in motion. I sink my two hands into her cheeks and lift up and shove back a bit so my dick's straight and pull her crotch down onto me and lift her up my whole length and then down again. Looking ahead I see myself hide in her thatch and see myself glisten as she lifts herself up me. She knows what I want and gives gives gives more of it to me.
I'm coming and thwacking her ass down against me she inclines and bites hard on a nipple I'm coming.
She kisses the hollow of my shoulder.
{210}
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