Busty Indian Babe

“You want a round two, then?” Ace purred, angling the camera to show her the bulge growing in his jeans. Indianporn “I’ll have you know, I have found God, and I don’t think you should be speaking to me like -”
“Cut the shit, Demi. She wasn’t quite sure how to feel about what she’d seen. “You liked it.”
“Ex-cuse me?”
“I saw the porn you were watching.” She took a step forward, and her husband took another one back. Standing behind her, right there in the alcohol aisle, was a tall man with strong biceps straining lightly against his plain gray t-shirt, his short dark hair hanging in scruffy ringlets around his face. You can’t think like that about him, he’s not your husband. He cringed at the taste – sweat and salt and musk, together with the sweet taste of pussy in a woeful cocktail – but he knew he was meant to serve and please.