A Good Day of Fishing
He wasn’t quite sure what was where— there were flowing strands of auburn curly and blonde straight hair, intertwined and woven between legs and arms and pussies, fingers and ruby red lips. He had never ever never in all his sixty years seen anything like this.
And the girls kept at it. They seemed to like knowing that he was watching them as they flung their hair off of their cheeks, out of the way so he could see them each separate the pink, wet lips of their soft, throbbing mounds, baring the little hard pearls of clits as they stuck their tongues in each other’s vaginas. He watched them as they skillfully drove their tongues in hard, driving circles around their clits and fully filled labia. He could not help himself, he was caught in the motion of the boat, the magic of their lovemaking, never realizing he was beating and pounding himself off as he devoured this vision of fluid passion between two of the hottest creatures he had ever seen: Sweet Jesus....
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