Drunk Desi Colleague

She started at my shoulders and slowly work down to my ass, then she said I can dry off your legs too and before I could say yes she was already on her knees drying off my legs from behind. She then moved to my front-side while she was still on her knees, she was concentrating on drying off my feet and then she looked up and my cock was right in front of her face and she pause for second staring at my thick American cock. She said “big” in Japanese with her mouth open in amazement, and quickly moved her head away from staring at my cock. She apologize and then I asked why was she apologizing? She said I didn’t mean to look at it but I never seen one that size before. I said that “its ok our secret” and she can look at it I won’t tell, her eyes lit up and she said “really, I can”. I nonchalantly said “of course you can, no worries”. I thought she was going to just take another look at my cock, but I felt her hands on my balls and heard “wow, big” as she was fondling my balls with her. His smile, his intense gaze, despite those thick glasses affixed to his nose, kept catching the drift of her eyes trying to spread her poem out to the whole audience. He could see she’d lost her posture. She was the most radiantly healthy when they’d said their good-byes, her flesh leaner, her movement more lithe and graceful. Her grace of movement was breathtaking. In the two years of separation, an invisible weight had taken its toll, and she didn’t stand so tall anymore. Maturity kept her from returning to the full slouch her lack of self-worth had provided during her adolescence, but the effect was similar. She had become Plain Jane again. He could see she needed him. Not as a lover. She needed him for guidance. Her poetry was lovely and graceful. He loved the one in which two lovers in the park whispered to each other endearments, but instead of describing their partner’s attributes, they described visions of the park. It was so lovely and graceful it broke his heart. He’d.
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