30-06-2019, 01:02 PM
Again they broke apart and now, for the first time, Pankaj saw a woman being fucked. She got onto her back once more and took Yaqub's cock in her throat.
Her hips arched up, her legs spread and knees forked, and Ramdev knelt between her thighs, his cock-head at her cunt-lips.
She reached down for it, guiding it to her hole. Pankaj watched, rivetted, as Ramdev, grinning from ear to ear, slowly squeezed his bulging cock-head into her cunt.
It slid in and then he flexed his buttocks and pushed it deeper, slowly sliding all of it into her, holding her hips. As it went in, Vaishali arched hard, crying out loudly and lewdly and throatily.
Yaqub chuckled and squeezed her breasts, fucking her face. Her hands went up to his cock, then to her breasts, then to her cunt, spreading her cunt lips open as Ramdev drove his cock deep into her cunt.
They fucked her thus, and Pankaj moaned as he watched his beloved dreamgirl make it with her servants -- two of them -- together. Her body bridged theirs, and it was jerking and spasming as they took her relentlessly.
Yaqub's face was flung back and his hips were bucking and jerking, his cock glistening and gleaming as it rocked in and out, in and out of her distended face, her cheeks hollowing and billowing as she slurped loudly on it.
Between her trembling thighs, Ramdev was fucking her cunt hard, his head flung back, wincing and gasping and grunting, his buttocks flexing and unflexing, his hips swinging rapidly to and fro, to and fro, his enormous cock shining with their commingled juices as it emerged and disappeared into the hair-rimmed folds of her cunt.
It came out, rasped and spiralled in, came out, skewered her again, came out, went in, thick and hard and dark and glorious, veins standing out angrily down the shaft, his balls swinging against her cunt-lips, moving faster and faster.
Her body jerked and jigged, her breasts jiggling, her necklace scooped about one swollen, turgid breast which Ramdev and Yaqub fondled by turn, pinching and tweaking the rigid nipple.
Her hips shuddered, swung, rose, fell, gyrated, pumped, bucked and then she bent in a bow, orgasming, her body shuddering taut and quivering.
The men laughed, grinned, and Yaqub squeezed her breasts hard, gasping and yanked out of her and came, hard, shooting thick white gobs of jizz over her lips and cheeks and face and breasts and neck.
Seconds later, Ramdev jerked out of her and shook his cock in his hand and exploded, too, his jizz spuming through the air and settling on her creamy belly and thighs and breasts like sticky ticker tape.
The men moved away from her. Yaqub squeezed her breast, laughing at Bahadur. Ramdev lit a cigarette, smirking. Bahadur was now masturbating openly, his cock big and thick and hard.
Pankaj saw that it was a fat, long prod, dark and glistening with pre-cum gunk. Bahadur stood there, his tunic open, his trousers off, frigging, his mouth open, panting and grunting. Pankaj's own erection was massive, painful, his balls throbbing.
He was excited and repelled at once, but he would not afford himself an orgasm. Not yet. Wait.
"C'mon, pimp, fuck her," Yaqub said. "Good stuff. Hot. And her cunt's still hungry for more! Fuck her hard, stud, show her your stuff!"
Bahadur chuckled in delight, beating his meat.
Vaishali lay there like a gutter slut, still gasping, her lovely body covered with sweat and gunk.
She caressed herself, running her fingers through the sticky gobs of it, licking them, lifting her hand and fingers to her mouth, trailing thick white streams on it, and lasciviously licking it all.
It was an incredibly erotic sight. Pankaj narrowly resisted the temptation to crash into the room and fling himself upon her, bang her repeatedly, force himself into her, to hit her and suck on her breasts, to ramfuck her mouth.
The whore, the dirty little whore! Oh, he wanted her! How he wanted her!
Vaishali swung off the bed and, smiling only at Bahadur now, moved across the room to him. Standing before him, she weighed her gorgeous breasts in her hands, lifted them high, squeezed them together, rolled them under her palms.
Her lips parted and her tongue slithered across her upper lip. A hand on his chest. A finger trailing a sensuous line down his hard, lean, V-shaped torso to his groin, her hands curling about his cock.
At the same time, her face inclined towards his. Her lips parted, met his. Fluttered away, then came back. This time he responded, kissing her hungrily, and she thrust her tongue into his mouth, her body pressing against his, rubbing his cock against her belly.
His hands slid up her body and over her breasts, squeezing them hard, rolling and crushing the succulent mounds, making her squirm and wince and gasp.
"Gutter-whore ... fucking slut ... bitch ... cunt!" the youth muttered in a thick voice.
"Yes," she moaned. "I'm a whore ... your whore ... just yours ... for you to fuck ... fuck me, baby ... just fuck me and fuck me and fuck me!"
She bent her head and began to suck on his nipples, tonguing and teething them, her hand busy between his legs, masturbating him.
He grunted and gasped, and her tongue swirled and rolled in circles, her head tilting first this way and then that as she sucked on them by turn. He bent his head and watched her, his mouth agape, his hand on her head, twisting his body to give her better access to his nipple.
Pankaj wanted it to be him. The constantly resurfacing thought was sour and bitter, fueling his anger.
Her hips arched up, her legs spread and knees forked, and Ramdev knelt between her thighs, his cock-head at her cunt-lips.
She reached down for it, guiding it to her hole. Pankaj watched, rivetted, as Ramdev, grinning from ear to ear, slowly squeezed his bulging cock-head into her cunt.
It slid in and then he flexed his buttocks and pushed it deeper, slowly sliding all of it into her, holding her hips. As it went in, Vaishali arched hard, crying out loudly and lewdly and throatily.
Yaqub chuckled and squeezed her breasts, fucking her face. Her hands went up to his cock, then to her breasts, then to her cunt, spreading her cunt lips open as Ramdev drove his cock deep into her cunt.
They fucked her thus, and Pankaj moaned as he watched his beloved dreamgirl make it with her servants -- two of them -- together. Her body bridged theirs, and it was jerking and spasming as they took her relentlessly.
Yaqub's face was flung back and his hips were bucking and jerking, his cock glistening and gleaming as it rocked in and out, in and out of her distended face, her cheeks hollowing and billowing as she slurped loudly on it.
Between her trembling thighs, Ramdev was fucking her cunt hard, his head flung back, wincing and gasping and grunting, his buttocks flexing and unflexing, his hips swinging rapidly to and fro, to and fro, his enormous cock shining with their commingled juices as it emerged and disappeared into the hair-rimmed folds of her cunt.
It came out, rasped and spiralled in, came out, skewered her again, came out, went in, thick and hard and dark and glorious, veins standing out angrily down the shaft, his balls swinging against her cunt-lips, moving faster and faster.
Her body jerked and jigged, her breasts jiggling, her necklace scooped about one swollen, turgid breast which Ramdev and Yaqub fondled by turn, pinching and tweaking the rigid nipple.
Her hips shuddered, swung, rose, fell, gyrated, pumped, bucked and then she bent in a bow, orgasming, her body shuddering taut and quivering.
The men laughed, grinned, and Yaqub squeezed her breasts hard, gasping and yanked out of her and came, hard, shooting thick white gobs of jizz over her lips and cheeks and face and breasts and neck.
Seconds later, Ramdev jerked out of her and shook his cock in his hand and exploded, too, his jizz spuming through the air and settling on her creamy belly and thighs and breasts like sticky ticker tape.
The men moved away from her. Yaqub squeezed her breast, laughing at Bahadur. Ramdev lit a cigarette, smirking. Bahadur was now masturbating openly, his cock big and thick and hard.
Pankaj saw that it was a fat, long prod, dark and glistening with pre-cum gunk. Bahadur stood there, his tunic open, his trousers off, frigging, his mouth open, panting and grunting. Pankaj's own erection was massive, painful, his balls throbbing.
He was excited and repelled at once, but he would not afford himself an orgasm. Not yet. Wait.
"C'mon, pimp, fuck her," Yaqub said. "Good stuff. Hot. And her cunt's still hungry for more! Fuck her hard, stud, show her your stuff!"
Bahadur chuckled in delight, beating his meat.
Vaishali lay there like a gutter slut, still gasping, her lovely body covered with sweat and gunk.
She caressed herself, running her fingers through the sticky gobs of it, licking them, lifting her hand and fingers to her mouth, trailing thick white streams on it, and lasciviously licking it all.
It was an incredibly erotic sight. Pankaj narrowly resisted the temptation to crash into the room and fling himself upon her, bang her repeatedly, force himself into her, to hit her and suck on her breasts, to ramfuck her mouth.
The whore, the dirty little whore! Oh, he wanted her! How he wanted her!
Vaishali swung off the bed and, smiling only at Bahadur now, moved across the room to him. Standing before him, she weighed her gorgeous breasts in her hands, lifted them high, squeezed them together, rolled them under her palms.
Her lips parted and her tongue slithered across her upper lip. A hand on his chest. A finger trailing a sensuous line down his hard, lean, V-shaped torso to his groin, her hands curling about his cock.
At the same time, her face inclined towards his. Her lips parted, met his. Fluttered away, then came back. This time he responded, kissing her hungrily, and she thrust her tongue into his mouth, her body pressing against his, rubbing his cock against her belly.
His hands slid up her body and over her breasts, squeezing them hard, rolling and crushing the succulent mounds, making her squirm and wince and gasp.
"Gutter-whore ... fucking slut ... bitch ... cunt!" the youth muttered in a thick voice.
"Yes," she moaned. "I'm a whore ... your whore ... just yours ... for you to fuck ... fuck me, baby ... just fuck me and fuck me and fuck me!"
She bent her head and began to suck on his nipples, tonguing and teething them, her hand busy between his legs, masturbating him.
He grunted and gasped, and her tongue swirled and rolled in circles, her head tilting first this way and then that as she sucked on them by turn. He bent his head and watched her, his mouth agape, his hand on her head, twisting his body to give her better access to his nipple.
Pankaj wanted it to be him. The constantly resurfacing thought was sour and bitter, fueling his anger.
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