Indian Women Are The Sex Always So Beautiful...

That arouses me more. I'm murmuring with pleasure and the murmuring gets louder and turns to more of a grunt. He likes that. He's pushing into me, saying how much he loves me, how great it is to be in me, how hard I make him. My hands are on his back, my fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders, squeezing him harder towards me. I'm gasping; the pleasure in my cunt; the feel of his body against mine; the closeness of the two of us. I wrap my legs around his bum, so he can't get away. Can't pull out. I want to feel him come inside me.And then he comes, his words of love turning to grunts as he pulses into me. I'm not far behind him, my own cries merging with his as I press back at him, as if I could somehow prevent what I know must be the shrinking of his member. But then I'm there, squealing with delight as I gasp and groan into my own orgasm.He rolls off me, laying back. I snuggle up against him. We lay together, cuddling, for what seems like hours. He gets up, pulls the bed. She walked me to the jewelry rack at the back of the store as the front door clicked shut. She looked me up and down giving me a long capricious going over. She even ran a finger over my arm. She smiled and pushed her bangs behind one ear. She told me to stay where I was while she went to the front door, locked it, pulled the blind and turned the sign in the window to closed for the day. She then drew the blinds on all the front windows throwing the store into shadow. She walked back towards me undoing her blouse as she did. As promised she wore a very old looking corset with lace trim and lots of embroidery and ribbing, it made her breasts jiggle as she sauntered back to me. She was tall enough she could look me right in the eye. She ran a hand over my face.“you like?” she asked with a thick Euro accent. “ I bring zis corset from my home country. It very old, hand made”“its very nice” I said tracing my hand over her breasts. She smiled and took the fingers on my left hand and began.
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