I asked her to please not play with her pussy and if she gets wet, not to wipe it away. I wanted this like a pig wants slop.I wanted her to suffer wit... a need that couldn't be satisfied by nothing or no one but me. I called her daily to tell her stories of nasty sex. She was moaning and begging me to let her touch and finger her smelly pussy. I demanded that she didn't. She hated me, but she kept her promise. On day three, I went to work, but no matter how I tried, I could not concentrate on. Hers were of taking care of her family and community.Manjula had known poverty, had known deprivation, had known cruelty and suffering to a degree he could barely imagine. He, on the other hand, had lived like an emperor, studied at well-furnished schools, driven smooth-running cars on neatly paved roads, never had to worry about bombings or invasions, and didn't give any more thought to life except to which high-paying job he could get — or whether he could get his girl to suck his cock. What. More

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