The Flower Of India
Mrs. O slowly strutted over to me and planted a deep passionate kiss on my lips. We began swapping tongues and boy that felt great. As we kissed and swapped tongues, I grabbed her chest and massaged both of her tits. I broke away from the kiss and we decided to do everything on the floor in the living room. Still feeling her chest, I took her right tit and began sucking on it. ‘Oh Joe!’ Mrs. O said with much pleasure. Then I switched to her left tit and suck on that. This was the experience of. I admit, we must have looked a real sight, the pair of us. Me: the middle-aged IT technician with the t-shirt tan and a midriff running to fat. Her: the Rose Bowl queen, lithe, flawless, naked as a jaybird and not caring who saw.I finish my cigarette, stubbing it out on a tire to avoid the risk of wildfire. With the carelessness of youth, Guinevere flicks her butt away into the long grass and I watch it smoulder as it dies. She turns to me and we kiss one last time, tasting tobacco on each. The clenching of my arse felt good, even as it felt stretched too far. I eased off the pressure letting my arse push my toy back out. Once I’d relaxed a little more, playing with myself I tried again, getting a little further. I was determined to take it, though it took three more attempts until I was stretched enough for it to slip all of the way in. The feeling was amazing as the head slipped past my sphincter, which closed on the stalk drawing the toy in deeper. The pressure inside, the. I have not added any artificial masala and all. But I have changed the names of the women and my name. This is a real incident with this hot aunty.First, let me tell you about me. I am the only son of my parents. My name, let’s say Sanjay. Till date, I had sexual encounters with 4 women of different ages. I was born and brought up in Andhra. It was a beautiful village. From childhood, I am a person who loves to be alone. The circumstances made me so. Being the only kid for my employed parents.
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