British Indian Pakistani Desi Paki Milf

I can't call him on his cell phone. Not if he's studying in the carrel. It's around 9:30 in the evening and my shift starts at 11:00 o'clock. I dislike texting if I need to talk.My bare feet make little sound on the heavy concrete floor. I take my shoes off whenever I can. It's a freeing feeling for me. I often come upon little surprising vignettes in the stacks. Lovers and others playing their games. I just smile and pass them by. It's a playground for many who should be studying hard, like my Wayne.As I approach his carrel, I hear an odd sound. I slow down and near him and then cannot believe what I'm seeing. My fiance is slowly humping into some girl, her skirt up over her butt, panties down, and him with his pants still mostly up, using his trouser fly opening to release his hard prick. Obviously, he'd been in a hurry to get down to business. The fucking asshole!Maybe it's just me. My personality. I don't make a sound. I don't scream or hit him or anything. I turn and. Grasping a lady schick razor I gently but thoroughly move it across my fine brown pubic hair, constantly rinsing the blade to insure the closest, cleanest cut possible. When I feel it’s as smooth as a baby’s butt I rinse off and continue my preparation. Next is the flirt, a smooth glass butt plug. I lubricate it then my anus. I slide it smoothly in until it’s seated and my butt muscles have firm control of it. The whole process has me trembling with anticipation, I feel alive, excited and so damn horny, I think about masturbating to calm my nerves but I don’t, I want to feel the total electrifying experience when I present myself to my Master. I finish dressing, black thigh high stockings, black thong panties with a matching black push-up bra, six inch heels today, a black pencil skirt with a mini hem line topped off by a white buttoned blouse that affords me the opportunity to reveal my cleavage more than what would be acceptable. Black eye liner and shadow, again more than needed.
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