1. Football or Sex


    Date: 5/19/2015, Categories: Fiction, Anal, Authoritarian, BDSM, Wife, Young, Author: Liv Beornwulf, Rating: 47.1, Source: sexstories.com

    fraudulent pretence. "There is a soccer match premiering tonight? I had no slight idea. Would you like to have a little sip of cheap wine, my love?" Brandon gave her a dirty look slightly. "No problem, sweetheart." "I would also love to become a part of your football past-time enthusiasm, you know?" She added kindly. Brandon seemed rather blown into a state of shock at hearing this. Since when did Mila start watching and fanning football? She every time couldn't stand soccer and singled out matronly things like shopping, cooking, and stuff like so on as a substitute. "You want to watch soccer with me, Mila?" Brandon questioned with a flabbergasted countenance. "Precisely, Brandon. Or I am not welcomed to be affiliated with you in this?" "No, no! I didn't say that." "Then let me have a seat right besides you, my love." "It is my pleasure, sweet." First, there was stillness. Then Mila stirred and let flow and get filled Brandon's glass of wine. Having handed over to him his full glass, she filled hers too and commenced on to drain it steady degrees by degrees. Brandon let his mind wander off to the television screen before them. Wasn't this quite weird? Mila pondered. Who knew? He must have hammered and dinned his dick into a legion of women back there in Paris. With an arousing and well-nigh naked her settled down besides him here, wasn't he meant to focus a bit of his attention on her? Maybe she was seated in a not so sex-inciting position? Mila budged ...
    tirelessly in the sofa, picking up her large buttocks and then tossing them straight down so as to wind them up lasciviously. She also yanked her legs apart--and there her purple underwear could be openly seen. She even jiggled her legs briefly and stroked her palatable thighs under the camouflage of purely scratching them. Brandon was staring for certain. But he didn't switch an inch like she here was persistently doing. Did they chop his dick off there in Paris? Mila was impatiently and noiselessly wondering. She sneaked a look down on his jeans while swinging her legs back and forth, expecting to see his dick get up and press its way out through his zipped fly. Nothing happened. Damn it! Perhaps all this wasn't that strong enough as was needed? A crafty Mila made use of her breasts. Those petite, withered-like but tasty-looking fashion of breasts. While she fanned and what's more touched them with her unfettered hands, Brandon looked straight at her and questioned, "Are you feeling hot?" "Sort of," she replied in a smooth, charitable voice. Brandon pulled off his jacket and handed it over to her. "Wear this. You will surely feel a bit relaxed and alright." What? His jacket was so lengthy and bulky that by the minute she had put it on, her voluptuous body parts were fully blanketed and utterly lost a crumb sighting of. What would she do now? What exactly? Oh yes. Following this, there was no other substitute than to give up seducing her unbreakable-willed husband.
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