I put my mouth on her cleavage, and she pressed my head down tight. I put my hands under her back, and opened the hook which was keeping this treasure under lock. She had really sexy breasts, milky white and small nipples. I sucked her nipples, bit them lightly which she liked. My hands had started to move to her waist and below. I put my hands inside her Saree from the waist, and she stopped them. I was not going to let go now, and with one jerk, my hands were on her panties. She asked me to stop, and not go further, but her request went unheard. After that she did not resist, and I started to massage her pubic area. I reached her opening, and started rubbing them over her panties. She told me to wait for her to remove her Saree. While she was removing her Saree and petticoat, I was busy fondling and pressing her boobs from behind her. I removed my clothes, and we both were now only in underwear. I saw her exotic figure. She had slim waist, and very curvy hips. Her panties were dark. My insecurities about my body had staged a spectacular comeback that morning: what if he didn't find me attractive in person? What if he was repulsed? I wasn't a nubile young thing, my body bearing the marks of pregnancies and a life lived. I reason that there wasn't much of me he had yet to see and anyway, it was too late; I wasn't going to stand him up. He'd said no pressure to do anything – oddly, I trusted him. As the minutes pass, I feel the familiar butterflies. The mixture of anticipation and nerves. I feel slightly giddy, like a teen with a crush. I take a seat by the window of the bar of the hotel, watching the station exit. I check my watch again; his train would be pulling in any moment. My phone beeps. It's him. Just off the train. See you soon.It's time. Butterflies in my stomach as he enters the hotel and I see him. He’s everything I imagined him to be: tall, handsome and strong. He oozes sensuality and an intensity that makes me dizzy. All the nerves melt away as he.
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