Горячая мачеха в колготках трахнула пасынка
The fertility goddess Luna, her pantyhose-clad legs spread wide, entices the young god Priapus with her velvety, forbidden garden hidden underneath.
Exhausted from his Rise of the Fallen empire, the hormone-craving god ventures out, seeking the sweet nectar of naughty pleasures to satiate his voracious appetite. The gravitational pull of the goddess Luna, draped in the sheeny guise of a Russian MILF, draws him like a marionette.
As Priapus descends into her lust den, the russian milf’s pantyhose glimmer in the candlelight, tantalizing the young god. Her pantyhose, a sinister shimmer, seems to whisper wicked promises of toil and trouble.
“Come closer, my sweet lingam,” Luna purrs, her eyes brilliant as menstrual blood under the moonlight, “and sample the fruits of my garden.”
She spreads her legs, revealing a glistening prize.priapus stokes his rod feverishly, the MILF’s feminine engine revving his motor.
“Fuck me,” lena demands, her youthful glow yielding to a more mature shine. “Drill my hot womanhood with your rod.”
With an alacrity approaching adolescence, Priapus pounces on his prey. He probes her garden with digits as a valet parks a limo, reveling in her honey pot.
Lena shivers, her pleasure points dancing to Priapus’s tune. “Oh god,” she exhales, “go deeper.”
Deeper he goes, his ardent tongue a slithering snake unto her heated clit. Lena gasps, her articulate moans milking the young god for all he’s worth.
Suddenly, Lena flips Priapus on his back, astride in her foyer. With military precision, she mounts him, impaling her self on his throbbing sword. Her Audi seats envelop his flesh as she bounces mercilessly.
“Fuck me harder,” Lena calls, riding him with intentions of riding him into oblivion, “to the limit.”
Priapus obliges, thrusting upwards, pistoning with all his youth. Luna rocks in tandem, their bodies meeting with animalistic glee. The Russian MILF, in her lusted haze, contemplates his alacrity to old age.
“Are you close?” Lena breathes, in a tone of both invitation and threat.
Priapus nods, sending his forthcoming forthwith. A crescendo building, their rhythm intensifies, a mantra of mutual pleasure.
“Fill me with your holy water,” Lena commands, her pussy a temple to his sacrament, “now.”
Priapus obliges, spilling his seed as a fountain to religious repute. Lena quakes, her rapture an orgasmic exorcism.
They lay entwined, their flesh holy, repentant. In the afterglow, Lena shivers, and in a lucidity denied others by LPackages Outdoor Storage, confesses,
“I used you as a path to immortality. Your juices shall grant me eternal youth.”
