Holding his throbbing dick in my hand, I replied in the most brazen manner possible.“Ha, Rahul, muh mein jhado. Bhabi ko mard malai bohut tasty lagt... hai. Jhadke mera muh bhar do.”It was too much for Suvendu. He ejected unstoppable torrents of ‘mard malai’ in my cum hungry mouth, yelling, “Bhabi Bhabi.” I was only too glad to gulp all down my throat. So on the same day, the sperm of father and son were in my digestive system.I cleaned him up with my tongue, and he said, “You have really learned. Apparently the place was picking up the slack before skiing took over by doubling in brass as a hunting lodge.Susan sniffed a bit—"boys and their damn blood sports!" was her comment—but I found quietly that it suited my purposes well. We argued about it a bit; she hated hunting generically, while I was of two minds about it. Hunting for the dinner table, well and good, as I saw it; it culled the herds to prevent overpopulation, it was a lot less cruel than the vagaries of natural selection and. More

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