I want her. This little well-bred bitch. This beautiful thoroughbred chick. This highly educated, with knowledge of the wisdom of etiquette and manners lady. I want this woman. Though she is a bitch, she is still a lustful, depraved, cruel creature. Oh, you do not even know how easily and harmoniously she spits on morality and the laws of society, how gracefully and gracefully she shakes off the consequences of copulation and returns to her respectable world. It gets. It is crazy. It turns my brain and dick inside out.

I can call her by name. I can cover her when she ends me. I can give her coarse nicknames that never touch her playful tongue. But I can never tell her something sweet and vulgar from the category of mi-mishnyh chasers for youngsters. Because she is highly test fucking, not a doll and a baby.

I will get it again and again. I will sell the devil, I'm ready to die the next day, if only today to fuck her, fuck hard and love with all my soul and body. Her beauty is not flashy, not standard-patterned, but alluring and intoxicating. And I do not care, that then there will be a hangover, that I will look for her, testing the placebo effect with soulless female bodies. I don't give a shit about an insatiable thirst in the morning, when she leaves and doesn't say when I can get drunk.

I'll take it here and now. Here she goes with her husband and daughter, a small copy of an adult bitch. She spends time with her family, they attract enthusiastic glances of passers-by, cause envy of lonely women and unlucky men. This sick society, who is not really indulging in the hell out of it, will not even enter my head that she comes to me. And I'm waiting for her. Going on this Sunday walk in the park, the lady knew that she would give herself to me, her beautiful body, her lips and mucous membranes.

I look at her, and I already have a riser. Pants vnatyag and dick getting wet. But still breathing. How does she do it?! She whispered in her ear to her daughter, kissed her husband and smoothly went ... to the toilet? I always wonder that she is lying to them all, when between her legs she is already wet and hot. We look at each other. I go to meet her. She turns into a public toilet. Male?! Here is an infection. I go after him. Clean, does not stink. It is strange that I still notice it. The last booth.

I rush at her like a hungry dog ​​for food. She gently locks the booth behind my back, sinking into my kiss. We are choking each other's mouth. I peel off her hem, how prudently of her to wear this dress. What little panties. My hand bursts between her legs, pushing and lifting one of her knees to the toilet. Pussy flows. Pussy craves. To hell with a coward. My fingers drown in it. Her hands, so aristocratic, with a wedding ring on her ring finger, have long been caressing my dick, hard and calling, impatiently trembling.

I lift it and put it on myself. A moan worth a million pulls out of her mouth. She rests her hands on the wall. I fuck myself with it, I nadraivu my dick with her greedy cunt, I squeeze her fragile body in my hands and hear only the sounds of friction of the flesh about the flesh.

- Faster! Faster! Come on! Still!

Yes! I cum into it, mumbling and shaking all over. I look at her, she smiles at me, removing the strands of her hair from my face. I take it off and put it on the floor, like a porcelain figurine. She straightens the dress and comes out of the booth. Will she not even wash her hands? She leaves and looks around at the door, whispering with her “thank you” lips.

I go out for her, I have to smoke, looking for a cigarette lighter in all pockets, I find her entangled in some kind of fabric. Her panties are so tiny. I tore them and put them in my back jeans pocket. I smile. Hurriedly I hide and light up. I look after her. I am leaving.

I walk past her, through her, on, on. I look at her legs in thin leather straps of sandals, beautiful little feet, a discreet nail polish, a ring on the second finger. I hear her voice, chatting with her husband and daughter, the words are not remembered, only the sound of her speech. I glance up the leg. Smooth, slightly tanned skin. The whitish drop slowly flows down the inner part of the calf, gleaming in the sun glare ...

I want her. This little bitch.