Delhi Bhabhi Playing With Herself
Longish hair. Glasses. Slight and pale, like he'd been inside too long. He was in his forties, maybe twenty years older than me. "Am I trespassing?" I asked softly. "No," he said. "I invited you here." He stepped a little closer to me. He wasn't handsome in the traditional way; he wasn't tall or muscular or particularly well-dressed. But there was a nerdiness that I liked. And there was an intensity in the way he looked at me that left a tingle running over my skin. It was like he was studying. Roger DeCourcey he said he was called" He was a well-known philanderer; none of the serving girls and maids, if they were pretty, were safe. But by all accounts he was generous and kind. The local history society wrote an article and sent me a copy"She went to where the writing desk had been. In its place was a modern piece of Ikea furniture doing the same job, a place for letters, bills, accounts and assorted stuff that needs to be looked at sometime, but not today. Every home has one. Halfway. Letting out a little sigh from her pale pink lips, imagening all the things he said he'd do. Her lips tugged into a grin at the thought of her calling him master, she was in every way inclinced to dissapoint him. But the thoughts flash through her head again, arousing her a bit. Her eyes slipped open halfway looking out the steam coated glass door... no one was home anyway. Smiling she let her hand across her stomach, watching the water spash off her fingers as she traced the sides of her. " What about her stuff, didn't you give it back to her?" No, she said she can't wear them because they look terrible on her and said I could keep them." You mean you still have them!?!" Again she felt my cock jump."Not only that, I'm wearing them," she said as she began to rub my swollen cock harder."Cool, can I see them?" Soon enough," she said, "Don't you want to see this?" Then she pulled a picture out of her pocket, keeping it facing her."That's it? The one of the two of you?" Yup." Oh god.
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