Later he turned into hard fucking. While I was moaning once per each of his penetrations, he asked,– tell me now, Fareeda. Who fucks you better? –...�� ah…you…ah… –He smiled and started fucking me fast, again. I was screaming.– aah! Yeah…fuck me…harder…please… –Later, he left me, sat on the nearby washing machine and said,– now, ride me from the front –I turned around and sat on his cock and started riding him, moving up and down using my hands which were against his thighs. He switched the spin. Our town just is not large enough to have a dedicated brothel, so there is nowhere for the poor woman to go.Our alcoholic woman is lucky in one respect, her family is well-to-do, so they can afford to keep her isolated at home and hidden from the public. They do provide her with the whiskey she needs, but they don't dare let the world know of her illness. Most of our townspeople tend to mind their own business, so it is easy to keep her hidden, but sometimes things get out of hand. I would not. More

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