Simran - busty lactating PHD - a Reproductive Scientist in a Village - measures Penis

[ashuezy2]

Scene 7: Riding the Sarpanch

Simran was pumping hard on Ramesh's lap, the coarse wooden cot squeaking and protesting under their frantic pace. The sounds of their wet bodies colliding filled the night air.

Ramesh: (Grunting, his voice hoarse) "Harder! Ride your Sarpanch like a bullock cart, Beti! Show me that city fire!" (Zor se! Apne Sarpanch ko bailgadi ki tarah chala, Beti! Mujhe woh shehri aag dikha!)

Simran: (Her breath coming in ragged gasps) "It's all yours, old man! I will break this cot! I will drain you!" (Yeh sab tumhara hai, buddhe aadmi! Main is charpaai ko tod doongi! Main tumhe nichod doongi!)

With one final, powerful thrust from Simran, the unstable cot gave way. The rear legs snapped, and the entire wooden frame tilted backward with a crash, sending both of them tumbling onto the cool, lush green grass just behind the porch.

The fall hardly registered; their bodies were too locked in lust to feel the impact. Simran was on top, her saree bunched up around her waist, her soaked pussy still impaled on Ramesh’s thick, fully erect cock. He lay sprawled on the grass, his eyes wide with a combination of shock and blinding pleasure.

Simran: (Laughing wildly, adjusting her hips) "See! I told you I would break it! This grass is better! More open, more dirty!" (Dekha! Maine kaha tha na ki main ise tod doongi! Yeh ghaas zyada acchi hai! Aur khuli, aur gandi!)

Simran used the break in the action to shift her position. She pulled her saree up higher, pushing the excess cloth away from her thighs. Her hands landed on Ramesh’s chest, and she began to ride him, using her thigh muscles to control the depth and rhythm.

The sounds of their lovemaking changed, becoming a deep, wet, sloppy rhythm against the soft earth, punctuated by the heavy moans of both people.

Ramesh: (Panting, looking up at her with pure ecstasy) "Ha! Ha! You are an animal, Simran! A hungry bitch! You ride like you want to kill me! Fuck! Come on, chod me harder! Tear your hole on me!" (Ha! Ha! Tum ek jaanwar ho, Simran! Ek bhookhi kutti! Tum aise chadh kar chala rahi ho jaise mujhe maar dalogi! Fuck! Chalo, aur zor se chod mujhe! Apne chhed ko mujh par phaad do!)

Ramesh’s filthy language only fueled Simran’s desire. His raw, unbridled lust was the missing element she had craved. Her hips worked faster, pounding down onto him.

Simran: "Do you like that, Sarpanch-pati? Does my choot feel good on your lund? Say my name, buddhe!" (Kya aapko accha lag raha hai, Sarpanch-pati? Kya meri choot aapke lund par acchi lag rahi hai? Mera naam lo, buddhe!)

Ramesh: "Simran! Oh, Simran! You feel like a hot fire! You are a dream! My randi! Ahhh!" (Simran! Oh, Simran! Tum garm aag jaisi lagti ho! Tum ek sapna ho! Meri randi! Ahhh!)

Simran felt herself nearing a powerful climax. With a wild cry, she arched her back and reached for the thin fabric of her low-cut blouse. With trembling fingers, she ripped the middle buttons open, tearing the fabric apart to fully reveal her lactating breasts to the moonlight and the Sarpanch beneath her.

Her nipples were hard, dark, and already weeping milk from the exertion. The sight of the massive, full breasts bouncing above him seemed to send Ramesh into a frenzy.

Ramesh: (Roaring) "Doodh! Your milk! I need your milk, Simran!" (Doodh! Tera doodh! Mujhe tera doodh chahiye, Simran!)

He wasted no time. Simran brought her body down lower, and Ramesh lunged upwards. His mouth latched onto one of her milking breasts, pulling the fully exposed areola deep into his mouth. He began to suckle with primal, powerful pulls, his tongue flicking the huge, sensitive nipple as Simran bucked and cried out in a massive, simultaneous climax.