Punjabi Aunty Fucked By Her Boyfriend

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Her pool chair was empty, holding only her laptop and towel. I scanned around and found her climbing out of the pool looking right at me! I ducked back away from the window lowering the binoculars. She was radiating a big grin my way as she walked to her chair and picked up the towel. I sank back into my chair and turned toward my computer screen. I couldn’t concentrate on anything. Did she see me with the binoculars? My face was flush and hot with embarrassment. “I have GOT to be more careful,” I scolded myself. My house phone rang. “Hello?” “Mr. Johnson, were you spying on me?” “Er…What?” “With those binoculars? Were you spying on me?” “Well… yes…I guess I was. You really are quite beautiful, you know.” “There’s no reason for you to sit up there in your office and spy on me when I said you can come down for a swim anytime. That binocular thing is kind of creepy, don’t you think?” “Yes, I guess it is,” I admitted sullenly. “I promise I won’t use them again, but I have work I should. The wind lifts the window curtain, and your fingers brush the hair from my cheek with a feather-like touch. I slowly drift into consciousness and realize that as I lie here with my eyes still closed, you’ve been watching me sleep. A smile teases the corner of my mouth, and you catch me. Pulling me close to you in one strong arm. Your skin next to mine is warm and ineffable. The chemistry between us seeps through our pores and we come together like gravity and a falling star, unable to defy the laws of attraction---unwilling to do so if we could. I feel your warmth permeating my skin, your chest against my shoulders, your arm around my waist. The muscles in your thighs tense agreeably against the backs of mine, and I luxuriate in the camber of your hips as they curve around my full buttocks. Blowing softly against the back of my neck, you send delicious shivers through my flesh, while that throaty morning-whisper threatens to send me right over the edge. I moan softly as your lips.
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You’re cervix isn’t the one that’s been destroyed.’ She handed me a glass of wine which I sipped on for a few seconds. ‘I’m still sort of shaky inside,’ I said. ‘That’s a good thing, isn’t it?’ ‘How can we complete the ceremony?’ I asked. ‘I don’t have a saber. I left it at home.’ ‘I know, ‘she said. ‘I planned on it.’ She cleaned the dildo that had so recently been buried in my cervix and snapped it onto a strap-on, then reached into her bag to come up with another toy of about nine or ten inches. A molded head was followed by a series of seven round balls that were molded onto the shaft, each ball slightly larger than the one before it. The last two were quite large. About half of the core was hollow, into which she slipped a slim vibrator that just barely went in. I wanted her on the table but she wanted it from behind. I sort of liked that idea too because I could get good leverage to really pound into her when the time was right. The dildo was lubed up and I worked a lot of.

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