Cunnilingus The Exotic Indian Way

I start slow, enjoying her slick pussy...it seems to caress and milk my cock. Her legs wrap around me, she asks me to pound her. I comply by sliding one hand under her ass and the other under her head and envelope her. She mirrors my embrace. My thrusting picks up speed and force! She is thrusting back now, moan and grunting I response. But, suddenly, I stop. I command her to move ass up, face down position. Your well-trained wife quickly complies. So, I resume the pounding of her pussy as I reach around to finger her clit. She again locks eyes with you, but this time asks your permission to cum again. You pause in the moment allowing her passion and arousal to crest, then grant her request. You watch as her body jolts almost unceasingly from orgasm number two. My plan to deliver my bounty to your beautiful wife’s face fails when she cries out, “fill me now, please, please!” I involuntarily honor her demand, and her pussy walls become coated with a mighty load that does not belong to. When I say soul I don't mean soul in the religious sense. I don't think that kind of soul exists. I don't mean soul in the way a poet or musician does either, although I do believe that kind of soul actually does exist. No, what I mean by soul is the place deep down inside myself where the tiny, unquenchable little flame that is the core of my existence resides. My will, my power ... my self.In my soul I knew what had happened. I could feel it in my blood and bones. I could feel it in each one of my children. I should have realized sooner. The clues had been right there in front of me.I should have seen this coming.Izzy'd had chicken pox when she was eight and mono at eleven. Ivan came down with mumps at nine, measles when he was fifteen. My father got the flu once a year like clockwork. My mother constantly had colds and eventually died of cancer.I'd been a pale, weak and skinny kid, but I'd never been sick a day in my life. Injuries ... yeah, there'd been a few of those, but always.
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