Incest Invincible Lover... (COMPLETE)

[usaiha2]

Their Invincible Love Part. 05.1

 

 

 

God has not made this earth only for quarreling with each other, or slaughtering each other's throat, or shitting into each other's mouth. Rohan thinks of beastly scenes of men fighting men in the troubled places of the world and curses those who do not value incestuous love but fight each other for nothing, only for the worthless sake of their filthy sentiment. Otherwise how easily one could value this ecstatic sensation from their mothers' warring nipples, Rohan contemplates gratifyingly. He pushes his fingers under her waistband, into the hips of her panties, and clasps her sloping assess with as much thrill as she clasps his. The vapor in the crack of his mother's full-moon asses purifies his crispy palms, which are authoritative on her flesh.

 

"We will discover God," Diksha says, feeling the nettle of his right nipple attack the opening of her left nipple, "If there is One."

 

Diksha hisses into his ears, whispering hotly and touching lovingly the curves of his ear-sheet with her vapid tongue. "We will discover the nothingness if there is NONE. Until then you are my God, my erotic God. My sexy, young brother." She manages the opening of her right nipple in the right position to swallow the nettle of his left nipple. "My SON." She hisses out of the ecstatic success of feeling the nettling pricks simultaneously into the both opening of her maternal breasts.

 

To make love with her is philosophic, is intellectual, is spiritual, Rohan ruminates. She is sexy, but she is a philosopher.

 

Diksha kisses Rohan. Her vapid lips seal his lustful lips. Her tongue crawls into his mouth and flatly presses on his tongue in a vice-like grip. Her wide breasts cut through the manly hair on his chest and touches his thin skin. Rohan thinks he is in eighth heaven against his mother's flattening breasts.

 

Diksha's cunt-lips open on their own volley. The mass of her cunt-flesh dances without a mate. Countless endings of her nerves cry for release into the walls of her pussy-tunnel. The nerves are not jealous that her son's cock is still dancing on her belly. They are not jealous of his pre-cum which fills her navel but which is meant to bath the head of those nerves that are blessed to reach her pussy-meat. Those nerves dance wildly, without remorse, without jealousy, and promise what they are capable of. Among all this dancing, her clitoris stands against the entire world, shouts with maternal joy of banging a son's chest with mother's breasts.

 

Diksha's body and mind give in to the most ecstatic un-penetrative orgasm of her sexual life.

 

 

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