Southindian Muslim Couples Expose Their Nude Fucking

I was barely ahead of them when I ran around the corner. I intentionally wore slightly over-sized jeans so I could rapidly slip them off. I was wearing my dress like a shirt, tucked into the jeans... and no panties. The dress was part of my disguise. The no panties was... just because. As soon as I ran around the corner, I slipped off the jeans and tucked them into the two grocery store bags along with the hat and can of spray paint. I quickly rubbed flashing the eye liner lightning bolt off my cheek with a makeup remover wipe and put it in the bag. When the North Thirties came running past, I gave them a nervous smile and looked down like I was afraid of being softcore caught by so many men while I indian was alone on the sidewalk, which I actually was. My smile became much wider when they ran past yelling things like, “Later, Chica. We’ll be back.” I forced myself to walk slowly for two more blocks before jogging quickly back into Knights’ territory. Then all I had to do was wait. This is what I was waiting for. This is what I had been fantasizing about for weeks– no, for months. Momma never understood why I had become such a disobedient young woman. “You were always such a well-behaved little girl,” she told me so many times in the past year. She would scold me and then say, “What has gotten into you since you turned eighteen?” She would then take me downstairs to the laundry room in the basement of our apartment. “Do you think you are too old for me to spank?” she would say as she pulled me through the door. “It is almost as if you want me to punish you,” she would add angrily. If the laundry room was empty when we got there– which it always was– she would push me over the big laundry sink and pull down my jeans and panties. I always kept my body held close to the sink when she did that, not because that was what she wanted, but because I didn’t want her to see how wet I was. Also, I wanted the edge of the sink to rub against my clit while she punished me. Once I was bent over with my hands grabbing the top of the washing machine on the other side of the sink, she would start amateur spanking me with that wooden spatula that she never used on food, only on my ass. “It’s coming, baby girl, just keep indian squeezing your tight little pussy around my cock.” There was nothing he could offer her. Then Suzi rubs an ice cube on each of my nipples. “Hell no.” Ryan replied. Her words were exciting. The first kiss was quick, eyes open, tasting and testing but soon we were making out, hands exploring bodies, flashing mouths moving while the tips of our tongues joined the mating ritual. Then he moved his cock down towards my amateur softcore pussy. “Why do you need emotional support? Jerry did. O God daddy you feel so good inside me. Oh fuck yes daddy yeah give it to me just like that daddy deeper deeper." No, not really. She squealed with joy as he started fucking her in a hard, steady rhythm, pressing her forward to deepthroat the cock in her mouth.