Fucking Busty Indian Aunty

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0 GPA and zero social skills. I volunteer for a number of causes, but I’ve never been to a frat party, or a formal, or any other college social event for that matter. My parents are very religious, and they raised me in a restrictive, repressive, conservative manner, and I never did anything in public that would go against their beliefs.Except that I have a secret: Despite my perpetual hair-in-a-bun, black framed glasses, baggy clothes persona, I am a sex freak. I know it, and I’m fine with it, but I have to conceal it, if for no other reason than I don’t want to disappoint my parents.Fast forward to my Trigonometry class: I am pretty much of a loner, and people generally leave me be, (although I do have a few “close” girlfriends, but that is a story for another time). There are these two cute guys in class who are nice to me, and they make me feel comfortable. One Friday night, I was feeling particularly horny, and I thought of those two guys. I knew that they were planning. “Oh my god! Look at you, Miss Thang,” Billie teased at the confident swagger in Tamara step. “Messages?” Tamara asked again. “Uh uh, no hold up. What’s up with all this glowing and all this extra perkiness?” Billie asked curious. “What are you talking about, Billie?” Tamara asked. “You got some, didn't you? On your little trip to Hot-lanta. You little ho!” Billie said teasingly. “Must I remind you we are at work," Tamara said sternly. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Billie said then closed Tamara’s office door. “Okay, c'mon. I've heard what goes on at those conferences, a lot of meetings and corporate mingling during the day, afterwards everyone get blasted and suddenly Bob Turner in accounting is hot stuff. So, spill it? Who did you fuck?” Billie asked bluntly with her hand on her hip. “You don’t know him. He’s not from our office and, most importantly, it will never happen again,” Tamara said, then realized that she admitted too many details. Tamara couldn't help but smile, Billie had a way of.
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Hearing that didn't surprise me. In fact, that afternoon, when she left to meet Duane (at the hotel I had paid a room for them), I'd sensed that she and I had already crossed that line that could never be crossed back over again, and do so unchanged. I felt an ache, a subtle tightness in my chest as I sat there and I pictured her naked on the bed; having had sex with this other, younger, bigger-dicked black guy; her pussy with his sperm still in it, perhaps dripping out onto the rumpled sheets beneath her; and my own, much smaller, pale white cock was surprisingly hard at the thought of that! It is said that when a man is executed by hanging, that at the moment the rope suddenly stops his downward fall, and as the noose rapidly chokes him; braking his neck instantly; that he has an orgasm; and that as he does, his cock experiences an equally rapid erection. The greatest orgasm of his life was also at the very end of his life. It was such a strange, and even counter-intuitive.

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