Would You Fuck An Indian Girl

And this, I introduced myself to her. We didn’t exchange our numbers or photos. And then again the chat continued for another one week and we both were ready for it. We both exchanged our numbers and photos.It got us a bit more closely. She was looking a bit modern along with her wheatish complexion, fleshy body and straightened hairs. That night we had a very long and hard session over the phone on which we both couldn’t appear for our jobs next day.We both were impressed and planned to meet. We decided to meet my the coming Saturday. She got an excuse from her home that she has to attend a colleague’s marriage followed by a party at Cochin on Saturday and will be back by Sunday. So it was all set for the weekend and we both could sleep the previous night.Damn! Saturday morning! I kept pushing upWhatsAppsapp for notifications, obviously for her message. By 10 am, she texted me, she started from Kottayam and is supposed to reach by 12 pm at Cochin. She had already booked a hotel room. Nothing in the living room, nothing in the kitchen; nothing - there’s a sharp rap at the door.You whirl to look at the clock. Ten-fuckin’-thirty!? Who the hell‘s still trick-or-treating at ten-fuckin‘-thirty?You check yourself out to make sure you’re decent to answer the door. Hmmm… denim cutoffs, a blue tee that reveals an inch of bare stomach, and flip-flops. You grab the candy bag and head for the door.You swing it open just as the kid’s about to knock again - only it isn’t a kid, exactly. Younger than you, for sure, but somewhere around high-school age or maybe a tad older. He’s wearing work shoes and overalls with no shirt, and his eyes flash over you from top to bottom when he sees you. You don’t know whether to feel flattered or annoyed, but you settle for flattered for now.“Trick or treat?,” he says lamely.You arch an eyebrow. “Aren’t you a little old to be trick-or-treating?,” you ask pointedly.“Yes, ma’am,” he says, and he has the grace to blush a little. “It’s not for me -.
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