Indian Desi Indian Girl Fuck Her Daddy

Our Kitty.” I wasn’t about to argue, not with the promise of orgasmic pleasure to be had. I began to rock my hips, rubbing myself against the baton, my head falling back against the car, eyes closed, mouth wide open as desire flooded through me. How long she teased me, I have no idea, only that it seemed like forever. Too long, not long enough. I felt like a I was going to explode, and yet she kept playing me expertly, pushing me to the edge then backing off, much to the amusement of her partner and our voyeur. My nipples began to ache, and I found myself fighting for breath. I wanted, no, needed to cum, not caring who saw or heard… “Look at me, whore.” I felt the tap of the night stick against my inner thighs, and I whimpered, suddenly afraid that she was going to stop. I almost burst into tears at the thought. “Who do you belong to, slut?” Remembering her words from earlier, my body betraying me, shivers running up and down my spine, my pussy dripping like a leaky faucet, I. Grabbing her jeans and bra, she folded them neatly out of habit then she started to walk, taking short steps, carefully down the hall towards her office. The cross-hatching on the bottom of the shoes was surprisingly grippy. She tried to keep the clicking from the heels to a minimum. The slightly metallic sound against the tile floor seemed to echo resoundingly as if to announce to anyone who might be around, ‘Look at the half naked slut who fucked herself so much that she’s covered in her own sex juice.’ She cursed under her breath when she found her office door locked. Finally fumbling for the right key, feeling like a whore coming home from a bad night, she gave one last look down the hall before ducking inside. She didn’t think anyone saw her and locked the door behind her. Sue pulled open the drawer with all of the spare keys and started to work, after sitting down to rest her aching feet. The relief when she finally felt the right key turn was almost as great as the relief from.
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