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Ruskiy chat seks. “Could you not have worn a proper one?” She’d giggled. “It shpoils the effect,” he had explained as he’d popped it off and threw it to her. She caught it, smiling, as he unfastened his dress-shirt and laid it over the ottoman at the foot of their bed, hips swaying like a bizarre, middle-aged, Chippendale stripper. “Undress for me now, you saucy minx!” She began unfastening her own top, throwing it casually to the floor and wriggling out of her skirt until she stood in only her mis-matched bra and panties.

Her hands self-consciously covered her soft tummy but he had shaken his head, wanting to see her in all of her glory. Almost shyly, she had moved her arms to her sides, resting her hands on her hips. “Mmm, I approve and so does ‘Little Bond’,” he’d looked down and thrust his hips, revealing an impressive semi and as his cream trousers pooled at his ankles, he gyrated his hips until his penis swung around a few times, like a meaty wind turbine. Ruskiy chat seks.

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