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I reclined, leaning on arms bent at the elbows, and he, covering his eyes and savoring his coffee, rhythmically moved in me to and fro, inside and outside.
I heard my voice, more like the sound of some kind of flute than a human sound, which was drawn in an empty kitchen.
The head became hard to lean back, forcing my arms to straighten.
With one hand holding the coffee, he stroked my body with the other hand, sliding the shirt upstairs.
The touches were delicate and sensual, like a satin fabric flowing through the body.

My kitty with pleasure and loosening sucked him in and with the unwillingness to let go, squeezing to the last, accompanied him back.
And again.
In between my sobs, the blows of the table against the wall could be heard.
“Actually, I don’t eat so much sweet for breakfast,” he said hoarsely, drawing words, “But in this case, let there be an exception.”
He, dexterously balancing a cup, kissed me under the bust, piercing me so hard, that I bent over and he easily left his tickling and wet, such a soft kiss. Indian hidden cam sex clips.