Two Indian Friend Fucking A Sexy Call Girl In...
It was only about 3 months or so later I got a letter, I was drafted. Great, just what I wanted all of my life, to be a Marine and go fix the world. We got married, at least she would get a tiny check. Tears and goodbyes and be carefuls, and later I was on a bus, off to do my duty, like I had any damn choice in the matter. I could go into that, I won’t. Wasn’t nice, don’t want to. It was 2 years before I got home. Oh, sure, a couple of leaves, lots and lots of letters, everything was fine. Her massage practice was busy, we had agreed that she would be straight with it. Nothing I could do but have faith. Patti met me at the airport the day I got home. I was OK, the bullet hole in my ribs had given me a free ticket. I had healed nicely with no outward effects, but I was different inside. Patti and I made love all over the house, she was such an eager woman. That same odd fascination with my dick, too, I could almost totally relax when she started that. She would reach out and grab me,. With my eyes closed, the smell immediately triggers a visual image of her long black hair at the end of a long day and in the middle of her run, the hair slightly damp with her sweat and shiny with the oil from her scalp. Putting her hat down, I bring the jogging bra to my face. I immediately smell the acrid muskiness of her sweat and my cock twitches up in reaction. There must be some strong pheromones soaked into the fabric, and I realize that she must not wash it very often. She probably leaves it here for her daily jog, not bothering to wash it after every run. The soft inner lining where her nipples rub have the least scent, but the straps that wrap around her under her arms have a strong smell, one that fills my nostrils. My cock is straining and pulsing and I feel lightheaded, lost in lust for her. The socks are neatly rolled, undoubtedly fresh out of the laundry, and when I bring the crotch of the lace panties to my nose, I can smell the perfume of laundry detergent. The soft.
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