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After she had finished squirting, he watched her squat beside the bed, wiping her sweaty body. He cherished her like this, recovering, her nipples stiff burnt caramel, her breasts heaving, her soft hairy mound glistening with an intimate dew, her scarlet lips protruding. She smiled fondly istanbul travesti at him reclining lazily on the bed, his hands behind his head, his puddle of grey messing the manly growth of hair on his belly, testament to her hand’s tender caress. She sighed, ‘That was istanbul travestileri really lovely. Thank you.’‘Did you come on?’She bloomed and blushed. ‘What do you think?‘I’m glad.’‘Here.’She wiped the sweat off her breasts, swabbed the thick slop of cum out of her wet travesti istanbul cunt, then handed him her wad of soggy tissues. He seemed surprised. ‘What am I meant to do with these?’ She lay on her belly, and closed her eyes, sucking her index finger, pretending it was his ridge-veined cock fucking her dripping wet cunt. ‘Smell them, taste them, come in them.”Come in them?”Mmmn, pretend you’re clenched by my throbbing birth muscle deep inside my fuck-hole.”Keep them?’She pulled up her panties, ‘Yeah, keep them, as a memento of our fuck.’
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