Balling mother

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Gina Miller's cunt was throbbing. "Oh… Ron," she whispered softly as she spread her long, shapely legs. "Why couldn't you come home?"

As a trucker's wife, she knew there would be nights like this – nights of longing, hunger. Lately, however, Ron seemed to be on the road all the time.

It had been four days since that big, hard cock had stabbed inside her pussy and filled her with his warm cum.

Gina gave another moan and slipped her fingers across the creamy texture of her thigh to the peach-colored mass of hair that haloed her oozing, burning cunt. Slowly she played at the tight opening, exploding the sensitive membranes. When her middle finger came in contact with her pulsating clit, she flinched. Carefully she pulled back the loose folds of skin to fully reveal the tiny nub and ran her fingertip over the satiny surface. Immediately spasms of raw anguish swept around her cunt and melted toward the base of her spine.

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