My Newest Friend From India
She knew that her husband had been quite conventional in his requirements and she had gotten used to just staying motionless on her back and giving him a good ride. He very seldom indicated any interest in oral or anal activities and her only memories of such things were her dim and hazy university days.Martha was certain that if she looked into a mirror she would be blushing but all she could see was Mister Patel or Inspector Tower or the dreadful Mister Higgins with their heads bobbing like apples between her knees and how wet they seemed to make her. She was beginning to think she was falling apart sexually now that she was a widow and with no steady source of cock to keep her smiling. Her spouse was no Don Juan and that was a fact but at least he was there if she felt the need.Today she was meeting Inspector Tower for lunch, but before that pleasant interlude, she had an appointment to look over the coroner's report again and to look at the photos of her niece which were. Oh shit. She was afraid to look up. She was already embarrassed... her shorts were past her knees and her shirt was rolled up under her neck, exposing her little breasts as she lay on her back, her hand still thrust down her underwear. She daren't move... perhaps if she didn't the intruder wouldn't notice her any further. "Not going to move? Fine. Have it your way then." With that, the intruder stepped into the room, shut the door and walked around Lina's awkward body. Something landed on one of the beds with a muffled thud. "Are you getting up or not?" Lina suddenly snapped back into consciousness and scrambled to readjust her clothing. She jumped up to her feet, only to be face to face with a gorgeous, slender woman. Her long, curly locks floated down to her back, dyed a fire truck red. She wore a blue camisole that showed a generous portion of her approximately C-cup breasts, tight white jeans and nude pumps. The woman was incredibly beautiful, even with the snarky look etched on.
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