My Real Desi Wife

“I suppose it does,” Rosie agreed, “I never thought of that!”“So where shall I find such men?” Melissa asked.Rosie thought a moment “They queues up outside the bawdy house down the docks, big lusty sailors who hant had a wench for months.” “You are suggesting I become a whore?” Melissa challenged.“Well thee has the looks for it,” Rosie admitted, “But thee asked where thee should get a man, three should have sold thee honour really.”“Oh get out of my sight!” Melissa snapped and Rosie scuttled away.Which left Melissa with the hair brush. She idly rubbed her pussy with the bristles before deciding decorum was required whereupon she bolted the bed chamber door to afford some privacy before once again easing the handle of the brush inside herself . It was too slender, she decided, so she tried her fingers, but they were too short. She needed a man. Or at least a cock, maybe two, or three. Life was passing her by. It was time to take action.“Rosie where is my caligraphy set!” Melissa. What would you do in that situation?He knew he couldn't fuck her, as compelling and delightful an idea as that was. You can't "undo" a fuck. But there are dozens of other ways to bring a woman to her own completion that aren't as final as fucking her.And, to be honest, something in him craved hearing what she'd sound like in the throes of ecstasy that he was creating in her.So he kissed her.When he began cooperating with his lips, her enthusiasm became more centered. Her lips felt alive under his, moving, nipping, searching for something. He gave her his tongue and, instead of drawing back, she sucked at it and employed her own. She was a natural at kissing, and his dick felt like it might break off in her hand.He realized that he needed to get this over with as soon as possible, because the urge to sink his prick into her buttery depths was getting harder and harder to resist.To that end he slid a hand down her side to the hip that was slowly humping against his thigh. Breaking that.
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