Chudai Video Of An Indian Aunty With The Boss In His House

After work we met out in the bar and I ordered up a pitcher of margaritas for us to share. She was so excited as we started planning our trip. ‘This ought to be interesting,’ she beemed. ‘I’ve never even been on a plane before!’ ‘To tell you the truth, I haven’t either,’ I admitted. ‘I guess there’s gonna be a couple of terrified passengers on the flight there,’ I laughed. Finally as the tequila began to make it’s warming presence over us, we settled into more quiet conversation. A few times I. She was young; nineteen or twenty years old. She had dark hair, was slim, and was generally cute. When she saw me she stopped short, screamed, turned, and ran back out of the room. I felt bad. I didn’t mean to scare the poor girl. She wasn’t even who I saw earlier anyway. I lost my hard-on. I figured I couldn’t cum now anyway, so I got up and went to the door. Her plastic name tag was laying on the floor where she obviously caught it on the door and lost it as she ran out. Her name was. "Get dressed up in your glad rags, we're going out for tea" Great I thought, no dirty dishes, "where are we going?" She thought a while and said, "a bit of shopping first and then down to the Returned Service men's club for a counter tea."We had a great meal; it was smorgasbord night so I pigged out on prawns and seafood. "That stuff will make ya horny ya know" she said "tastes great and I don't have hair on the palms of MY hands" I quipped. "My you are growing up aren't you?" I blushed a bit. He looked like any regular guy,5ft 10”, muscularly built, cropped blond hair, in his early 30s, but it was his piercing blue eyes that seemed to bore down into my very soul. He carried a wire shopping basket with two or three items in it and as I wheeled my trolley down the next aisle I didin’t have to look to know he was behind me.I reached to get a box of dried peas, he was staring so intently at my ample backside. I wasn’t provocatively dressed in any way, just a grey-marl vest over a blue.
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