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She squirmed below me, eyes closed, tossing her head back and forth, her red hair splayed out across her pillow. She was breathing heavily and gruntin... each time I pushed into her. She held her chest, alternately pulling on her nipples and squeezing her tits together. There were low, animalistic noises deep in her throat as I fucked her. Any second now, I knew I was going to cum, and I knew I needed to pull out. I wasn't wearing a condom, and she told me she wasn't on birth control. She had. But to my drunk self didn’t see any problem in that since I felt in control. If he was going to get a hard on touching my feet, and then run off home to masturbate, that felt totally OK. At least at that moment since I planned to the same later.Another thing was I just loved foot rubs and my husband just didn’t. How gullible did this boy think I was? I straightened up using my arms to support my upper body so I could look down on him more. I suppressed the urge to just put my sole on his face. More

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