She was Italian, so, like Heather, she had a dark complexion. She was taller than my daughter, maybe five-eight, very thin, but not so much so that sh... was bony. Her legs were long and smooth and on that night, being shown off by a pair of those tight little cotton shorts that young girls wear. As she sashayed into the living room, I could make out the subtle hills of her vulva pressing against the cotton shorts. Her lips were outlined perfectly, the material tucked up slightly between them.She. My cock springs to life. She picks up the handcuff key, and instead of unlocking them she ties the key onto a loop of string, like a pendant. She puts the string over her neck, and kisses me. She mounts my stiff cock and rides like a wild woman. All I can do is watch the handcuff key and her breasts swing over my face as she gives herself four orgasms. She collapses on my chest, and I watch her rest. I'm glad I don't have clothespins on my nipples. She rolls over and cuddles against me for. More

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