My Desi Crush

The hands encircled her waist. They went around to her front. They slowly undid her little leather belt letting it hang open. The buckle jingled. Next came the three buttons that held her tattered and worn jean shorts shut. The hands now warmer and less shaky slid like a snake down her front gently rubbing over her clit and inner thighs through her white lacy panty fabric. Fran moaned accidentally. The girls laughed. After the frontal search was done a hand reached down her ass crack squeezing both cheeks then doing a solid reach around of her crotch to her pussy. A finger rubbed her pussy and circled her clit methodically. What kind of search was this Fran thought? The search continued with the girl carefully and slowly massaging her tanned bare legs down to her shoes. Little shoes. Runners. White. Her right leg was jarred up behind her back and her shoe was ripped off. The little pom pom sock flung off. Nothing. The next foot. The girl found it. A gram of cocaine in her shoe. . She was walking to the laundry room, obviously just off of her shift. Her long dark hair had just been let down over her shoulders. It cascaded down behind her white tank top. As my gaze followed down I could clearly tell she wasn't wearing a bra. The exact shape of her D-cup breasts could been seen clearly to anyone who looked long enough. She was unwinding from her twelve hour work day and didn't seem to care about how she was seen for the minute that she was outside of her room to get her laundry. Continuing down her beautiful body I noticed the curves of a woman. Everything was perfectly proportioned in that respect, her breasts, waist and hips were sculpted by an artist. And that leads me to the legs, they just went on forever. She really was almost as tall as me, only a few inches shorter. Like the rest of her body, her legs were a work of art. However, those magnificent legs were turning, as she walked around the corner into the laundry room. That turn revealed an even more.
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