Young Indian Escort Fucked In Hotel

It was a long, convoluted story, involving one of her fellow students whose husband had somehow found himself sucked into a fairly serious scam. Hubby was one of those guys with more sex appeal than sense—I knew him vaguely, his best talent (outside the bedroom) was playing the violin, actually quite nicely though not well enough to do it professionally—who'd wanted to "prove" himself to his wife by showing a business ability he in fact didn't possess.Economically he'd married up, and the wife, Lee's friend from class, loved him dearly— a feeling that, from my few interactions with them as a couple, I sensed he reciprocated fully. It had seemed to me one of those matches actually made in heaven. But she'd unwisely given him access to everything, which he'd duly sunk into a real estate deal that even I, inexperienced as I was, could smell out as bogus.Most scams like that sting but don't really hurt; people tend to take flyers with what they can afford to lose, not the whole wad. Lee's. She stroked them tenderly and gently pinched my nipples, soft moans and words like treacle accompanying her delicate finger work. Then she slid her hands down my abdomen and eased fingers inside my leggings.I gasped. I wanted more, wanted to feel those fingers inside my pussy. Whimpering softly, I parted my thighs.“Yes, touch me,” I said breathily, my desire unmistakable in any language.Gazing at me, lips slightly parted, the girl slid her hand beneath my panties and touched my clit. Touched my clit. She watched my reaction, murmured something then, eyes widening, pushed two fingers deep inside me.Oh. My. God. The girl wasn’t gentle anymore. She drove her fingers deep, fast, fucking me hard. Her thrusts were rhythmical, fingers smoothly lubricated by my liberally flowing juices. She leaned in as she worked, her breath on my cheek, long hair brushing my skin. God, she felt good.I pushed against her thrusts, back arched. I’d never done anything like this, never experienced the thrill.
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