Desi Wife Husband Ki Gand Chahti Hui

She says, “I don’t know what to do.” I say, “Just do whatever you like having done to your pussy. Stick out your tongue and taste me. That’s it Lila, just like that.” Her tongue slides around the outside of my pussy, licking up the flavor of my leaking pussy. She pauses and says, “You taste really good.” I say, “So do you, Lila. Now open my pussy lips and stick your tongue in me. That’s it, just like that.” Her tongue sliding hesitantly in my pussy feels so good. I’m trying not to grind on her face yet, but it’s so hard. I whisper, “Suck on my clit Lila. Do it.” You kill the engine on the boat and get down on the floor beside Lila. You lay on your side and watch her for a few minutes, then you start giving her instructions. You say, “Lila take her clit in your mouth and nibble on it and stick 2 of your fingers in her pussy. Come on, you gotta feel how tight that cunt is.” She does as you ask and I moan, reaching up to twist my nipples as you teach her how to please a woman. You reach. “One sugar for her. Sweet tooth, I’ll take two. Screw the purists. Life is bitter enough as it is. Stir.” A flood of late winter sun bleached the back of my skull. It had a sound to it, not a nice one. Squinting for survival. The neighbor scurried hurryingly from her balcony. After a quick second peak, that is. The sheets crumpled at the foot of the bed. She was laying there like a classical painting. A sleeping Venus. One rosebud nipple poking through between her hand, resting sleepily. Hair tousled. My thick drowsy phallus went back to full erection at the sight of the shape of her mound, her pale skin. Luminescent, as poets tend to ruminate. I’ll admit it, I’m a sucker for that stuff. Bit of indie underground in there please, though. I like my faux-realities slightly raw and singed. “Aren’t you cold?” Her skin confirmed, she only grunted. She grabbed the glass of water on the nightstand, barely getting up. Her hazel eyes peered over the rim of the glass, looking at my bulge. A.
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