Indian Horny Bhabhi Fucking In Hotel Room And Cought By Husband
A few seconds pass and she lets her hand slide down the shaft. She twisted ever so slightly as she pulled up towards the head and again back down. My father enters the living room and she stops dead in her tracks. Three minutes pass with her hand still gripping my rock hard cock, her thumb gently rubbing the head. My father leaves the room again, saying he's going to start dinner. She starts up again and I reach over and undo her pants. I bite her earlobe and tug gently as my hand slides down into her panties. A light excited moan in my ear is the only sign of approval I need. She is enjoying this too much. She tugs harder as I let a finger slide over her clit. Another two fingers brush either side of her clit as they move further to massage her labia. She starts to work my shaft more vigorously and I start to apply more pressure and even let a finger slip into her pussy. My father enters the room and she stops dead in her tracks. I don't have to do much more than work my wrist. "I like you."Her words instantly stopped the shakes."I like you too." I smiled, but couldn't meet her eyes with mine."Well I guess we should finish this," she said, taking her satchel offher shoulder and pulling out her books, "then we can have some fun."Fun...Her words kept stopping my mind in its tracks. I hadn't really goneround to friend's houses, not even boys, for years, I preferred to readand watch TV on my own, at home. I didn't really know what fun meantanymore - especially to a girl. I felt excited and nervous all overagain."Oh..." Harriet laughed.One of the books had fallen open on the reproduction pages, withcartoon drawings of a girl and boy standing side by side, shamelesslike Adam and Eve, with all their privacy on display. Though it wasjust lines, and not very pretty ones at that, that Y shape between thegirl's legs still made me feel funny. I'd still not seen one like that- just big hairy ones in my brother's magazines which made me feelfunny too, just not as.
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