My 1st Delhi Client Fuck His Hot Pussy & Hot Moaning

I guessed she was around my age; her face was blessed with smooth skin, rosy cheeks and large brown eyes. She wore a simple white blouse with a few top buttons undone, showing off a rather nice bit of cleavage. Her skirt was short and black, and she was wearing a pair of tights that looked like stockings, hoping to draw attention from her chest to a fine set of legs. She had headphones in her ears and was holding a magazine, although she didn't seem to be reading it.She nodded to acknowledge my presence just before I sat down. It crossed my mind that my seating position gave me both a nice view of her legs and a fantastic angle to see down her top. On the far wall was a screen showing which ticket number was last called up. It read 02. I looked on my ticket, 31. I groaned."Tell me about it." The girl next to me said, showing me her ticket, it read 30. "So, you want to know who you are too?" Yeah, thought I should find out, my birthday present to myself, find out who my parents were.". She jerked her hand away and cried out, ‘No! No, I can’t! ‘ She must wait for him. He would be returning soon for her and when he did, she must be ready. Every nerve in her body was on fire. The slightest hint of a breeze across her nipples, the lightest touch to her flesh brought on feelings of hunger that only One could satisfy. She ran a hot bath thinking it might calm her nerves. She added some perfumed bath salts and swirled the water with her foot. She knew to prepare herself, he didn’t have to tell her, it was expected of her. She gathered her hair up and loosely pinned it in place with a couple of silver pins. Stepping into the tub, she sat down and eased back until the water reached her neck. She closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift. As usual, her thoughts turned to Him. She recalled his hands on her body, so powerful, possessing her, bringing to surface those desires she held deep. He was fully aware of her need and with the expert touch of a true master, he would.
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