Sexy Indian Wife Riding Cock In Lingerie

Who are you? What is your story? Will I ever know? Do I really care? I have here and now, and here and now is wonderful. I pull her close and kiss her for as long as my breath carries me. The curve of her back and mound of her buttocks feels warm and welcoming in my hands. She clings to my intentions and neck, squeezes her body against me and her promises against my desires. The room is white, all white. Ivory hue paint over dark wood, porcelain figurines on white shelves, pale, pale yellow curtains pulled half aside, glowing white in the sharp sunlight, lilies on a table, linen on the bed. Only the bright blue swirl of her dress and the deep, dark irises of her eyes shine in different colours. Her hair smells like vanilla. Her body feels like home. We shed skin and leave a wrinkled puddle of her blue and my black on the white floor, a tangled mess of clumsy giggles, ripped buttons and delightful connotations. Blue gave way to pale gold, shapes of basic humanity, a journey from. My hands couldn’t very well reach her tits, but they were free to squeeze her tight ass and finger fuck her open pussy. When I had my finger well lubricated with her dripping honey I began to explore her ass. I’ve never been big into anal, but I wanted to know if she was. The ease with which she opened to my probing and the not so soft moaning told me that my finger was most welcome and that perhaps more of me as well. Now I played her ass and her pussy off against each other, moving from one to the other when I needed to change fingers or catch a break. My tongue on the other hand needed no break. I don’t know if its true for other guys, if these two things go together, but I can talk for hours and I can lick a pussy almost as long. Maybe all that talking keeps my tongue in shape or maybe I’m full of crap, or just energizer batteries. Maybe I shouldn’t say this but I finished long before she did. We were too far into it to change positions and I don’t think she wanted to me stop.
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