Smooch Fucking Indian Couple

She made her way to the kitchen and filled the kettle, setting it to heat on the centre of the hot plate. Whoever was in the car would want tea on such a frosty night as tonight. The cats crowded round her ankles, mewling at her, eyes bright with anticipation, willing her to follow them to the front door, but she refused to be hurried. Instead she went into the larder and fetched down the red cake tin. The travellers might be hungry too. Carefully, she placed a small plate on the large, oak table and arranged the flapjack in a tiny pyramid. That would soothe them as they waited by the fire. There was plenty of soup if they needed a meal and bread fresh from baking. It was all prepared. The bell jangled in the hall, the noise so loud in the silence of the cottage, she almost jumped. Time to greet her visitors. As she walked along the hall, she caught sight of herself in the mirror and gave a half smile. A middle-aged woman, streaks of silver in her brown curls smiled back. She hoped. She hadn't even realized she was weeping and then there was this man, standing there. "You look like you lost your best friend.", he said to her, smiling gently at her. "What? Oh, I, ah, yeah, I have lost my best friend. My husband passed on and we had come here on our wedding trip. I come at least once a year to rest, relax, enjoy the scenery, and take some photos." She nodded at the camera hung around his neck, "Looks like you had the same idea." He perched on the rock beside her, and also took a bottle of water out of his backpack. She offered him some fruit and nuts, and they sat in the sunshine and visited, comparing notes on the photos they had taken. "You're not from Canada, are you?" she asked him, fascinated by his rich deep voice, and the smooth southern accent, that was nearly not there. She picked it up, as she had a thing for an accent. "No, I'm not, I'm from Texas. I have heard about Banff, and really wanted to shoot some nature photos, and really what.
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