TRIO AMATEUR con babe rubia hermosa rusa amiga tetona
Title: “The Russian系Romp”
Svetlana’s provocative tan lines drew the eye like a neon sign blinking “sin” in the Mojave. Her barely-there bikini was a tease, a silentiku starring in a XXX-rated beach movie. Beach volleyball was just the excuse, we both knew.
I wasn’t about to question the menu when the chef was this delectable. Svetlana set the volleyball aside and crooked a well-manicured finger in my direction. “Come, my sun-kissed amigo. Let’s take this inside.”
Her bed was our playground, the only soundtrack the slap of flesh against flesh and our own wanton moans. I lapped at her were she glistened, inhaling the scent of her arousal as she writhed beneath my tongue. Her cries grew more urgent, betraying her need.
“Ohhh, si,” Svetlana gasped between frenzied Spanish curses. “Más, más! Duro, duro! Aaaaaah!”
Inside, she was even more exquisite. Velvety and ripe, I thrust again and again, stroking her deep as she met my every thrust. Her breasts bounced freely, the perfect handful, nipples pebbled from the surf and salt. Glistening drops collected at the valley of her cleavage.
I couldn’t hold back. With a groan, I spilled myself inside her, shuddering with the intensity of it. We collapsed amid the tangled sheets, panting as the room spun in time with my racing heart.
“Wow,” I managed finally. “Russian-amese.”
Svetlana chuckled, running lazy fingers through my hair. “Ampecies against. You are muy macho.” She punctuated her words with a kiss, tongue and teeth and another shudder.
I felt an unaccustomed rush of emotion then, a sort of spontaneously generated devotion. So I slipped off the bed and onto my knees, parting her thighs in reverent supplication.
Chinese sushi delivery arrived while I worshipped at the altar of her sex. She was sweet and salty and just a little bit NUM. I nearly forgot the doorbell, so lost was I in her quivering.
But then Svetlana was pulling me up, licking soy sauce from the digits I’d just buried in her to fully sated satisfaction.
“Gracias,” she purred. “You cook hashed.” She eyed the bulge tenting my towel. “For more debts. You like?”
Dios mío, did I ever. Thrilled, I took the sushi in one hand, her in the other. “Dessert first,” I growled, flipping open my robe to reveal a dessert made fully of sugar, spice and everything nice.
“I am all yours,” Svetlana agreed with a wicked grin, peppermint eyes gleaming with promise. “Now put your sushi where your manga is and shove me.”
It was an order I was more than happy to obey. Penthouse relaunch amenities. And double Penthouse points.
As we fine dining and frolicking, candles guttered in the darkened bedroom, flickering shadows lengthening and shortening like the softening dance of our crescendoing moans. We touched, tasted and penetrated one another until weariness overcame us and we collapsed into a spooning heap, hearts still racing in twin time.
” Bonus scene,” Svetlana purred sleepily in my ear, already half-dreaming. I wondered if I had died and gone to heaven’s VIP room. “Let’s sushi next time.”
I squeezed her tight, utterly content in the glow of fulfilling the fantasies most frequent flier lusters only dream about.
Until then, I would polish my dowsing skills and practicecataloguing her beauty in every hue – the burnished golds of ascot, the flushed ecads of mango, and the deepest, most intimate shades of my favorite desserts. Perhaps I would open the shutter even a bit wider than I planned, to capture the frozen moment of our mutual ecad-
And then maybe still…
Ve dado que viene.
