Indian Teen Girlfriend Fingers Herself While Chatting
"He held up the covers and Susan told me to get in then she crawled in beside of me. I was in the middle as we all snuggled up close. Susan's breasts was pressed against my chest as she kissed my lips lightly. Mark's semi hard cock was pressed against my panty clad ass as he started to kiss me neck and blow into my ear.We were all tired and soon we settled down and I fell into a blissful sleep.The bright sun shining through the window woke me up, for a moment I was confused and disoriented. Then it all came back to me. I had sex with Mark and Susan James last night and I was still wearing a pink baby doll nighty and matching panties she had given me to put on before we went to bed.I was alone, I had no idea how Mark and Susan had gotten out of bed without waking me, maybe I was just that exhausted. I crawled out of bed and decided to see where everyone was at. I made my way downstairs to find Mark standing in the living room wearing a white terry cloth robe and talking on his cell. In her mind, she could see herself reaching for and smoothing his raging shaft, guiding it deeper into her, pumping her, teasing her, heaving up and down as he thrilled every part of her. Her body jerked, and her soft, smooth voice called to a man who was only there in memory—but what a memory he was. The sheets fell from the bed, her legs parted farther and farther as her make-believe lover turned her out. She felt like the freak of the week, and for once, was glad to have that daunting title. When she returned to herself, she looked around the room in a haze. The moon shone brightly into her window, casting eerie shadows of a nearby tree. Her gown was bunched between her thighs, and she knew her hair was a fright, but the dream was well worth it. Was that what it was, a damn dream? Was Ethan simply a dream? If so, why him? She bounced from bed and looked into her mirror. The hickey he’d given her was still on the side of her neck. It looked sexy for some reason, and she delicately.
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