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Forrest Green đź’š Panties


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Watched her from across the bar, she was a total upper class—wearing a white dress, reddish hair, iced-blue eyes, looking like she owned the place. But the way she twirled the straw with her tongue and how she looked at my gray sweats told me she wanted to be handled. I snatched her drink, downed it, and just said, "Follow me." She didn't hesitate.

In the alleyway, I slammed her against the brickwall and grabbed her throat. "Not a word," I warned. She was shaking, her rich-girl composure gone. Licked her from her collarbone to her ear. I kneeled and dragged those forest-green panties down and let her feel me, hard and ready, just grazing her.


She was dripping, desperate for me to just get it over with, but I wanted to make her ache. I taunted her, rubbing the tip against her, whispering, "You want it? You’re gonna have to wait." I watched her eyes roll back as I slowly, ***fully slow, slid all the way in.
"Widen those legs," I said.

I started with these long, deep strokes—deliberate and heavy—making her feel every bit of me stretching her out. I kept the pace slow, letting the friction build until she was clawing at the bricks. When she finally started to lose it, I covered her mouth, driving in fast and deep until I came inside her.

She cleaned herself up, straightened that expensive dress, and walked off like a lady. But I knew that with every step, she felt my cum seeping into her forest green panties.

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