My coach. Bezrukova Elena

The coach lifted my chin with an imperious movement of his hand and took my lips. The kiss was greedy, adult and even rude. His tongue forced me to give him space and wrote out an eight inside me, from which the body was trembling. “Go away,” he said in a hoarse voice, reluctantly cutting off the kiss. - Now. It will be too late. “No,” I showed perseverance. - I want. To be too late. “I can’t stop, Sonya,” he grunted in my neck, digging his fingers into his hips. - Go away right now. - No need... do not stop. I want this, Camille. - You are stupid girl! You will regret it, ”he said. - This will not change anything between us. I will not stay. Neither here, nor with you, nor at all. - I still want to. Kiss me more, Kamil Nailvich.