"

I comply, no longer even smiling. I know very well what he means.

He surveys the results of my assuming the position, commenting only "Damn! For you, wide apart is really wide. Good."

"Now listen to me," he goes on sternly, staring into my glowing eyes. "If you want me to stop, really stop right then and there and freeze in place, just say, ‘Matte!’"

"Um – MAH-tay? Vhy that instead of just stop?"

"Because it’s different. Stop can be used by accident, or if you don’t really mean it, or for other reasons. Matte is the Japanese command to stop that’s used in the style of martial arts I was trained in. It’s a word I’ll react to, no matter what. Got that?"

"Matte. Ja, I have it."

"That’s your safeword. Don’t forget it."

Safeword. I have heard about that being used for S&M activities. But I have never had anyone actually give me one. I swallow nervously. He is not kidding about taking this seriously.

By now, I am staring at his green-gloved hands and having misgivings about all of this. His claws –

He sees the look on my face. "I know what you’re afraid of. Trust me. It ain’t gonna happen."

Trust him? That is what it all comes down to in the end, nicht wahr? And can I do that? All too often, I have seen him lose control, seen the damage those scalpel-sharp adamantium blades can do, seen the amount of blood dripping off of them when he was finished doing it.

I hear his voice in my mind. "I’m the best there is at what I do. But what I do best isn’t very nice." With those few words, my lover has often stated the basic conflict that haunts his tortured soul, and our sometimes-tortured relationship, and I am not sure he even realizes it.

But those hands – with the claws that could eviscerate me in a heartbeat – can sometimes be so gentle and tender when we are making love. I know he would die before he would seriously hurt me. I also know I owe my life many times over to the skill and swiftness of his so-dangerous hands.

Ja, he could kill me if something went wrong. But death can happen at any time. Is this any different, really? No, it is not.

"Ich vertraue dir," I tell him softly, "weil ich weiss, dass ich dir vertrauen kann."

"English, Kurt. I know some German, but I don’t wanna have to guess. Not now."

"Sorry. I trust you, because I know that I can trust you."

This time, he is the one who ducks his head, so that I cannot see the look on his face, or perhaps the tears in his eyes.

He comes closer, kneeling on the bed between my open legs and looking down. I feel obscenely exposed to his gaze, the darkness of the room affording me no cover from his acute night vision. He cups my genitals in one hand, squeezing and releasing as he speaks.

"Fist-fucking is about the most intimate thing one person can do to another. It can get to you in ways you never expected, so don’t be surprised or alarmed if you feel strange at times. That’s normal."

Already I am squirming at his touch, my breath catching between my teeth, as I reply, "Me? Normal? Not in this lifetime."

He snorts and gives me a sarcastic smile, then sits back onto his knees. My cock aches to feel his touch again.

"I know it’s difficult for you, darlin’, but try real hard to keep your mouth shut for a while. All you’ve gotta do from here on out is get fucked."

His voice has changed, becoming lower and rougher as it always does when he gets aroused. No more nice lectures or pretty words, and he will tolerate no more fooling around. Time to get down to business.

"I’m gonna make you stop intellectualizing, Elf. Gonna make you feel it."

His voice is almost a growl now. Definitely not time for any more of my wisecracks.

He leans forward, looming over me. I close my eyes, as I usually do when he starts getting serious about screwing me.

I feel him rub a generous amount of lube on my opening, then he pushes a larger glob into me, following it immediately with a couple of slick fingers.

I lean back and sigh, letting him open me. By the time his third and fourth fingers join the others, I can feel the stretch as almost pain. He spreads his fingers slightly. I make an incomprehensible noise deep in my throat, something that sounds a lot like the pain responses so beloved of comic book writers. Guess what? Sex sounds the same way.

"I love it when you make those noises for me, Elf. I know you’re not much for screaming and carrying on –"

My mind adds silently, "Because I have been trained to be quiet." I tell it to shut up. Be here, now, concentrate on this, damnit!

"— so the sounds you do make are that much more important to me. Do it again. It only makes me harder."

His fingers spread wider, but now I have trouble going with them. "Nngh!"

"Open for me, darlin’. Surrender to me. I need to get inside you."

Just as I need you inside me. Come on, Kurt. You have taken more than this before. Go with it. Let it happen.

"Give it to me, Elf! Your ass is mine and I want it!"

He has folded his thumb to meet his hand now. The pressure is slow and careful, but relentless, as he continues to press into me. Each tiny increment seems much larger than it could possibly be in reality. I can feel his knuckles against my taut and straining asshole. I am about to be ripped open. I will myself to relax, but that does no good. If anything, I clamp down harder. I am not sure how much more of this I can take.

"Bitte, stop! Just for a moment," I am forced to gasp, not really desperate enough to use the safeword.

"This is the worst part. It gets easier once I’m in."

"I know. Give me time to adjust."

He does so, holding his hand in place but not forcing it further into me.

"You call the shots, love." His voice is tinged with disappointment and resolve. "If you tell me to, I’ll stop entirely and pull out."

"I-- do not-- vant that." I am panting now, desperately trying to catch my breath.

For so long, this aspect of sex with a man has been so easy for me. I could accept into my body what few others could handle, even if there was little caring involved. How can I fail now, for the one I love? I have to prove to him how much I care. I have to go through with this -- But I cannot!!

No, Kurt, you know better. You know you can. So what is stopping you? It has been so many years since you last had to consciously focus in order to open your body like this. So very many years since – since --

A memory echoes down those years, like a voice I loved – and loathed.

It was my first time being penetrated by an adult male. I was six years old and, despite all the preparation I had had, I was suddenly very much afraid of the huge object seeking entry into my body.

I tried to pull away, but Herr Grüber, having watched us approvingly up until this point, held me down as his voice admonished me gently, "Kurt, Kurt, mein kleines Dämon-Kind, you know better. One may never refuse a paying customer. And this man has paid a very generous price to be your first."

"Nein, nein! Ich kann das nicht tun! Bitte, Herr Grüber," I begged frantically, "Make him stop!"

"You can take him, boy, but you’ve got to want to do it. Remember what I taught you," the voice went on, relentless and insistent.

"Bitte! Bitte! Nein!"

"Hush now. Stop fighting and relax. Listen to me. You are a cloud, floating through the sky. Feel the sunlight warming you, expanding you. You are soft, insubstantial, immaterial. You flow from shape to shape as the winds play around your edges. You can surround and absorb anything that penetrates you. It’s easy, floating along far above the earth, far above yourself. Picture it, child. Feel it."

My body responds automatically to those words, as it has been carefully taught to do. It works now, just as it had worked then, and so many other times during my childhood. I feel the melting, pliant sensation begin to flow out from my center. I am a cloud, floating effortlessly along –

"Logan," I whisper as the feeling reaches my groin, "Now. Oh please, now!"

He pushes gently, then harder as he meets my lessening resistance, twisting his hand just a little. Harder --

-- and he is in, my relieved sphincter now only encircling his wrist.

At first, he holds very still, as I gasp in a strange combination of relief and ecstasy.

"I’m not going in any deeper, Elf. Maybe when you’ve had more experience, but not now."

I almost do not hear him, so caught up am I in the intensity of the moment. His hand is in me. He is inside my body in a way I could never imagine, as if I had never been truly fucked before in my life. The sensation is so deep inside me. Something has been opened in me that has never been opened before.

"Elf, you hear me?"

"Ja." I have to concentrate and force myself to answer. "I vant more. Deeper!"

"No." Implacable. Discussion ended. My heart sinks a little. "Listen to me. I’m gonna move my fingers a little. Tell me if it hurts."

His fingers curl slowly. I can visualize them coming together to form a fist. "It feels too vonderful to hurt."

"That’s all I wanted to know." He twists his hand just so, and fireworks explode in my gut. So hard do I swallow what should have come out as a scream that it is barely a strangled sob. I feel as if I’m choking on the tortured sounds that force themselves out of my mouth. But this is not even orgasm. Not yet. It is just a brief spasm of pleasure that consumes me for a moment and is gone, leaving me wishing for more.

"Figured you’d like that, darlin’. Now open your eyes."

I do it, thinking he just wants to see how much they are glowing. But that is not it at all.

"Look down here."

Again, I do as he says. Even knowing what I will see, I am nevertheless astonished. My eyes widen and my mouth falls open. Seeing the look on my face, Logan half-closes his eyes and smiles slightly.

"It’s not every day you can see a man’s arm buried in your ass, is it? Especially one as large and muscular as mine."

The best I can manage is a nod. I know it, I can feel it, but I do not quite believe it. "Lieber Gott im Himmel!" I gasp. "Dear God in Heaven!"

"Yeah, I suppose one might say that."

His hand moves again with an in and out, twisting motion. I throw back my head and suck in a breath, automatically closing my eyes.

"Ya like that, huh?"

"Aahh! Ohh! Ja!!"

His voice is all I have to focus on now, as my excitement mounts. He repeats that small screwing motion rhythmically, over and over, until the muscles in my groin are contracting and relaxing in time with his hand. His thumb has found my prostate and is running back and forth against it as his hand moves. My insides convulse around that exquisite pressure. My tail is stiff and quivering violently. I am whimpering now, so close to release that I cannot even form words.

I hear Logan speak, in that ragged, gasping way that means he is close to orgasm also. "Come for me, Elf. Come for me!"

I am thrusting my hips rapidly, in time with that peaking rhythm. There is nothing in my world but sensation, only his hand and my quivering innards and straining penis. The yearning is almost unendurable, my mind blank to any other feeling but the need to fall over this torturous edge. Oh, please! Almost there. Almost –

His tongue runs up the underside of my cock. "Ja! O ja!!" The rest of what I have to say comes out as a cross between a moan and a scream, as I come for him, my muscles clenching convulsively around that hard fist invading my ass as I ejaculate.

Logan is much louder when he comes. As I begin to relax, my rational mind asserts itself once again. I open my eyes and look at him, his body leaning forward over me and his free hand wrapped around his spurting cock, as his cum joins mine on my abdomen and chest.

I watch my lover’s face as he too recovers. His hand is motionless inside me now. He opens his eyes and meets mine, then gives me that shit-eating grin that is never seen except at times such as this. We are both pulling ourselves back together after the intensity of the experience, breathing hard and covered with sweat.

"So how do ya feel?" he asks at last.

Good question. How do I feel? Can I even begin to describe the indescribable?

"I vish you could reach so far into me that you could hold my heart in your hand."

The shit-eating grin got even more smug. "Ya see why I couldn’t explain it before we’d done it? It wouldn’t mean anything unless you’ve felt it yourself."

"Vhy, Logan?"

"Vhy vhat? I mean, why what?"

I ignore that first part. He often teases me about my accent by imitating it. "Vhy did you vant to do that to me?"

He looks up at the ceiling, a slight frown narrowing his dark eyes. It takes a while before he can say anything, and the beginning is not too promising. "Uh – Kurt?"

"I have not gone anyvhere."

"What we’re doing – some people say it’s a touching and interlocking of souls."

Mein Gott! He wanted something that intense between us? He could have just told me. No, he could not, not him. Not in words, but only in the way he is accustomed to saying such things: through sex.

At a loss for a reply, I stare at him dumbfounded. When he meets my gaze, I know he can see far more in the fierce glow of my eyes than I would ever be able to put into words. Perhaps that is how it should be between us. Words, after all, are limited. Love is not.

"I did not think you even believed in a soul," I say softly.

"Probably not the same way you do, Elf. But we’ve all got something inside us that seems to be the basic reality of the self. That’s what I mean by the word." He smiles somewhat crookedly. "Can I get away with using it like that?"

I nod.

"Good. But enough talking. I’m not done with you yet, darlin’. Not by a long shot. Lie back, close your eyes, and stop thinking. Oh, and watch the tail, will ya? I’ve already had to swat it out of the way several times."

"I vill try. But I do not know if I --"

"Shh, Elf. Don’t talk. Just feel."

He opens his hand and I feel his fingers tickling me deep inside. "Ahhh!"

"That’s better, darlin’."

After that, I lose track of everything. How long I laid there impaled on his arm, I do not know. It is all one long stream of unbelievable sensations. All he has to do is move a tiny bit, in or out, up or down, and it strikes new sparks inside me.

It is like a constantly pulsing spasm, but it does not end. Like an orgasm in slow motion, waxing and waning, but always there. Several times it gathers and peaks as I fall yet again into the brief ecstasy that is all we can know of heaven while we are here on earth.

Once I hear the voice of Herr Grüber speak to me out of the past. I struggle against it, telling him to be quiet, go away, leave me in peace. But it does not work. He will not be silenced, and I must hear him tell me what a good boy I am, how much I have pleased him, that I am his precious devil-child, who will bring him much wealth with my body. I want to hold my ears to keep the voice out, but I cannot. Instead, I focus on Logan, whose hand is moving untiringly, inflaming the lust inside me. Logan, my friend, my companion, and my love. The past means nothing. It is over. Yes, I know these memories will need to be dealt with, but not right now. I want to scream. Perhaps I do scream. "Go avay! Go back to Hell, vhere you belong!!"

And he goes, Gott sei Dank! I return to my contemplation of pleasure.

I cannot tell where I begin and Logan ends. This constant sensation becomes my reality and I float blissfully within it. I lose touch with place and time, and exist only in this comfortable and comforting darkness. It pulses around me and inside me, like my heartbeat. At times it seems to be the heartbeat of the entire cosmos.

Eventually I give up on words and just allow the feelings to wash over me and engulf my senses.

Slowly, I become aware of Logan’s voice, calling my name.

"Kurt? Yo, Kurt! Ya with me?"

"Ummm. Ja?" I manage to reply, resenting the disturbance.

"I’m gonna start to pull out now."

"Nein!"

"Ja, darlin’. You’ve had enough for your first time. I can tell from how you feel inside. Don’t worry, I’ll do it real slow. It won’t be anything like it was going in. You don’t need to push or anything. I’ll do all the work."

But I do not want this to stop. I want him to be forever in me, as he is now. As I feel his hand slipping out by small increments, I do not want it to be over. Yet I know it is no use protesting. He will do as he thinks he must, and he is probably right. Nothing can last forever. But, oh! if only this one thing could!

And all this because a man has pushed his hand up my ass? How could such a thing bring this much pleasure? If it had not been Logan, would it still feel this way? Yes, but no. The physical sensations might well be the same, but it is the trust and love between us that let me give myself to him so entirely, leaving me free to enjoy it without fear or reservation.

Sex can mean everything and sex can mean nothing. It can mean your greatest love or it can mean just a way to have some fun. It can be intense physical pleasure or something you feel you have to fake. It can even mean pain and humiliation if you lean in that direction. It can be selfish or selfless. It can be a boring duty or an exalted experience of holiness; a financial transaction or the only thing that gives your life meaning. It can mean life or death.

And all that is only what I have seen and known in just my own lifetime. I am sure there are more meanings I have yet to discover, as well as some I may never find. All I know is that having his hand inside me is the most incredible thing I have ever felt. And I know how much it means to me, on many different levels and in many different ways.

I feel the stretch as his hand prepares to leave my body, but it is not nearly as painful as it was going in. Yet I do not want this to happen. My body responds to my emotions automatically, and my muscles clench around his hand, as if trying to keep it there.

"Elf, the tail! Stop it right now! Relax!"

I realize my tail is trying to lash from side to side in anger and dismay, but since I’m lying on my back and it is angled over on my left side, the closest it can come is whipping back and forth in front of me. Before I can even react, Logan jerks his right hand out of my ass, simultaneously grabbing my tail near the end with his left hand, holding it away from him in an implacable grip.

By now, I have opened my eyes and begun to squelch the emotions that had clouded my mind. I become aware of the stinging in my nether regions, where he had pulled his hand loose despite my tightened sphincters.

"That hurt," I start to protest, but then I catch sight of his right hand, held rigidly down by his side with the blades extended. "Uh – never mind. I am fine."

He retracts the blades, wiping his hand across his face to get the blood out of his eyes. There is a very nasty slash across his forehead. The edge of my tail must have done that.

He shakes his head with the little sideways jerk he uses when he is trying to dismiss some damage he has taken.

"Damn! I’m beginning to think I’m the one who needs a safeword, not you."

"Tut mir so leid," I apologize, glancing down. "I do not know vhat came over me."

"I do, darlin’. I told ya, fisting could make a man feel really strange, remember? No telling what a person will do under those circumstances."

I know he is trying to make me feel better, and it does help a little. I still feel pretty dumb though. "You can let go of my tail now," I mumble.

"Ya sure?"

"I am sure." But my head is still bent in shame over what I have done to him. It could as easily have been his eyes.

In the moment of silence that follows, I become very aware that his hand is no longer inside me. Where there had been fullness, I am now only empty and bereft. A part of me seems to be missing. I feel a strange combination of complete satiation and fierce hunger, heartbreak and elation. I am confused. What did I feel? What do I feel? Ich weiss nicht.

"Look at me, Kurt."

I force myself to obey that quiet command, staring him full in the face and smiling tentatively. The cut on his forehead is already closing.

"Damn, but I love it when you look at me like that, with your eyes so full of golden light."

I have a sudden urge to duck my head again, but I push it resolutely aside. Good thing I did, as he leans forward and kisses me. If I had ducked at the same time, I would probably have broken his nose. I kiss him back, of course, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him down on top of me.

Eventually we break the kiss and decide a shower would be a good thing for both of us. By the time we are clean, dry, and again lying in bed together, the pale light of early dawn shows at the window, beginning to brighten our room. I think about having to get up and teach a class, but then I recall that it is Sunday. No classes. No need to get up at all, if we do not want to. And right now, I definitely do not want to. I am not yet ready to face the everyday world outside of our bedroom. I search for the words to say, to tell Logan what this past night has meant to me, but before I can come up with anything, he clears his throat and beats me to the punch.

"Uh – Kurt, beyond that stuff I said earlier about intertwining souls, there’s another reason I wanted to fist you."

I keep quiet, hoping to encourage him to go on.

"Like I said, I know what it can feel like. I – I wanted to know if it would be the same for you." Uh-oh. He is looking at the ceiling, not at me. He is going to say something he is not comfortable with. "I hoped it would be."

Is he saying what I think he is saying? I had assumed he only knew in the theoretical sense of the word, not from his own experience of being the one on the bottom. I cannot help but try to find out. "How vould you know how it feels?"

"How do ya think?" He is still staring resolutely at the ceiling.

"I find it hard to believe you vould let someone do that to you. After all, you are only very seldom villing to let me be the top in ordinary sex, much less in anything like this." I add quickly, "Which is usually fine by me, of course."

There is amusement in his voice, and his eyes finally meet mine as he answers, "I have let them. Several times."

OK, so I was wrong. That happens sometimes. "Really?"

"Yeah, really."

Even now, Logan can still surprise me. I of all people should know that it is simply impossible to guess what a man, or a woman, will do in bed on the basis of how macho, or unmacho, they look or act in their regular lives.

"I’ve only done that with a few very special someones, Elf," he adds as I stare at him, once again too taken aback to come up with a quick or clever reply.

All right, he is in an unusually confiding mood just now. Do I dare to raise the stakes? Worth a try. "Vill you let me fist-fuck you?"

For once, I have surprised him.

"Um – Well -- It wouldn’t be quite the same for me as it was for you, you know, since it’s not possible for you to harm me that way." He sounds as if he is temporizing, giving himself time to think of what his answer should be.

"I realize that."

"You really want to do it?"

"Ja." For him, the trust would mean something else. I could not hurt his body even if I wanted to, but I could very easily hurt his heart with nothing more than my words. He would have to trust that I would not look down on him for being made so vulnerable. It could mean a threat to his masculinity, that it might somehow change him in my eyes, if I were the one doing such a thing to him. He would have to be willing to relinquish control of the situation to someone else. Yes, he said he had done it before, but he did not say with whom. Whoever they were, they might well have been more "special" to him than I am. Or at least more of a person to whom he would feel comfortable relinquishing control than I am. Say perhaps his martial arts Master, or some other much-revered man. Or woman?

It will not crush me if he refuses, but it will not delight me either, so I wait anxiously for his response. It is a long time coming.

"Don’t you think we’ve both had about enough for one night?"

No, I am not letting him off the hook so easily. "But some day?" I persist.

"Yes, I will. I’ll let you – but not now. Some day."

Again, his answer surprises me. Perhaps it should not, considering that it is almost the same answer I always give him, when he asks about the sin carved into my penis.

"But the vay you just did it to me: ve vill do this again also, ja?"

"Sure thing, if that’s what you want." No hesitation there. "But not on an everyday basis. This is a special thing between us."

"And special things die vhen they become routine, nicht wahr?"

"Ya got it."

We are quiet again, as the room continues to gather in the light of the rising sun.

"Uh – Elf? -- There’s another special thing between us that won’t die."

"And vhat is that?"

"Being in your arms and in your body is the closest I’ll ever get to God. No matter what happens between us, darlin’, never forget that."

Astonished, I squeeze my eyes closed and try to swallow the tears of joy that threaten to overflow, knowing Logan would not appreciate my dissolving into a sodden hysterical fit of euphoria. I can think of nothing else to do other than wrap myself around him in every way I can, and surreptitiously wipe my tears away on his broad and hairy chest.

German Translations

Mein Gott My God
Pfui! Phooey!
Verdammte damned
Zum Teufel! To the Devil!
Herr Lehrer Literally: Mr. Teacher
Was machst du? -- What are you doing?
mein Schatz -- my treasure (my dearest, my darling, etc.)
Dummkopf -- Dummy, fool
nicht wahr? -- isn’t it? (Literally: not true?)
Ich vertraue dir, weil ich weiss dass ich dir vertrauen kann. --
I trust you, because I know that I can trust you.
Nein, nein! Ich kann das nicht tun! Bitte, Herr Grüber! --
No, no! I cannot do that! Please, Mr. Grüber!
mein kleines Dämon-Kind -- my little demon-child
Bitte! Bitte!! -- Please! Please!!
Lieber Gott im Himmel! -- Dear God in Heaven!
Mein Gott! -- My God!
Gott sei Dank! -- God be thanked! (Thank God!)
Tut mir so leid -- I’m so sorry
Ich weiss nicht. -- I don’t know.

STORY ARC – In Order

Morning Devotions
Something a Little Different
As the Twig is Bent
Pray for Us Sinners
With Nothing on My Tongue
You Win, Elf
Hell Hath No Fury
Let’s Pretend

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