“Come in my house,” she whispered. “Where your car is?”“No car,” I replied. “I walked here.”“Come in,” she said, and I found mysel... having to suppress the urge to correct her English, like “Where is your car,” and “Get in, not come in.”She drove like a maniac, still struggling with the idea that you sit on the right-hand side in a British car and drove on the left side of the road. Or maybe she drove like a maniac wherever she was.In two minutes we were outside their rented house up a leafy. She stopped thrusting her butt and just held it where I had the best position to flick her clit with my finger, keeping my thumb buried in her vaginal canal, applying a steady pressure to the front part. Her cunt muscles clenched and released in increasing rhythm, her breath coming in short gasps, a little whispered moan escaping with each exhale."Yesss!" she hissed. My finger was flying over the hard little ball of her clit, the juices from her pussy making swishing sounds, soaking my hand.Her. More

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