I remember the soft glow of the afternoon sun filtering through the curtains, casting a warm light over the scene. The bed was a mess of tangled sheets and pillows, a testament to the passion that had just unfolded. I lay there, my body still tingling from the intensity of it all, as he draped his legs across me, propped up on one elbow, his eyes meeting mine with a mix of satisfaction and exhaustion. The room was filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of fabric as we shifted positions. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss, a reminder of why I loved these encounters so much.**The Aftermath: A Cuckold’s Cleanup** As I lay there, I couldn’t help but think about the cleanup that would follow. It was a ritual, a necessary part of our dynamic. The sight of him, still in his light-colored tights, leaning over me with a neutral expression, was both comforting and arousing. The pink crop-top and underwear I wore were a stark contrast to the chaos of the room, a reminder of the boundaries we had pushed and the lines we had crossed. The bed, once a place of rest, had become a battlefield of desire, and now it was time to restore order. I knew he would take care of it, as he always did, with a mix of tenderness and duty. It was a part of our dance, a silent understanding that made our connection even deeper.
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As I saw cum oozing out of my wife's pussy, I couldn't wait to hear all the details of her first time having sex with a black guy. My cock was hard as a rock with anticipation.
I see that and I will fulfill my end of the deal by licking you clean while you tell me the whole story