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While boning her, Glen ordered her to tell her husband what she was: "I'm your fuckmeat. I'm your private cunt, your pussy pet, i want your cock, I want you to fuck me, yes, fuck, fuck your little slut bitch slave, fuck me like a slut." Glen fucked her while he was fully clothed, except he had pulled his fatigues below his knees, and the piece of married fuckmeat was naked on the floor panting and moaning, all the while her eyes blazing directly at her husband although he didn't think she was in a full state of consciousness. The husband's own cock was getting hard and it wanted to fuck her face but dared not without the soldier's permission.
Glen suddenly pulled out and dug into her cunt with the fingers of his right hand, pushing them all in, and slowly fist-fucked her until she cried for mercy, and tears of pain-pleasure spurted out her eyes, her mouth wide open. He withdrew his soaking hand and made her lick her juices off his fist. Then he rolled over on the floor and told her to suck his dick, still hard and glistening wet from her cunt gushing all over it, and she buried her head in his groin, slurping and moaning, her body writhing. The husband wanted so badly to fuck her but wasn't allowed to. Glen pushed her away and ordered to straddle him, one leg on either side of his waist, her knees resting on his open bomber jacket, his hands digging into her thighs, as she lowered herself on his huge dick, her eyes glazed open, bucking up and down as she jiggled and wiggled on his cock. The husband was still wearing his clothes, his cock hard as all fuck and straining under his pants. He asked: please, Sir, may I fuck her, too?