Mature Indian Aunty Playing
——————————— Her family arrived not long after. He was waiting outside her room, settled into one of the chairs when the entire posse bustled in with Dylan amongst them, anxious to see her. Gwyneth’s mother rushed into the room with her sons and Dylan close behind, barely registering Aidan’s existence. Aidan watched as the family circled his unconscious lover. As soon as she neared the bed and got a good look at her daughter, she started to blink back the tears, clapping her hands over her mouth. Gwyneth’s three younger brothers milled around the bed awkwardly, wearing stoic expressions, but he could see the grief hidden in plain sight on their faces. Gwyneth’s mother reached out, took her daughter’s hand and kissed it. A small sob escaped from her as she tenderly stroked her daughter’s hair. Dylan put a supporting arm around her, rubbing his hand up and down her shoulders in an attempt to console her. Seeing the frank affection in the room did nothing to assuage his guilt. It only. * * * * Joy filled him. That was the only way he could express it to himself. She’d found his present, she had to know how he felt. Kaylee. She would be his. He danced around the room in uncharacteristic glee, picking up the big orange cat that had been sleeping in a small square of sunlight. ‘She’ll be here for us, Buddha,’ he said to the disgruntled feline. ‘She’ll take care of us, and love us. We’ll be a family. Who knows,’ he said, putting his face up to the cat’s, ‘maybe I’ll even get you a girlfriend, too.’ The cat dug his nails into the man’s arm, determined to make his point that he wasn’t happy about being so rudely awaken and then ran from the room when he was unceremoniously dropped. But the man wasn’t fazed. He was too excited. It had been so easy, all of it. Killing the bitch had been the hardest part. He’d had troubles enjoying her, her flabby body and ugly colorless hair hadn’t been much of a turn on. But he’d managed, closing his eyes and letting images of the others.
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