My Pure Indian Wife Fingering

“And I’m not stupid. The pillow. The reading trick. The two other women diverting the attention of my customers and my staff. Very clever, but not enough to fool me. Consider yourselves lucky that I’m the owner of this bookstore and that I enjoy the idea of two or more people getting it on in my shop, as long as it doesn’t cost me business.“So, here’s the deal. You come in here, you actually buy something at some point, and you browse within reason, and you agree to fuck me now and then, and I’m okay with you two and your two friends fucking here. Well, and you can fuck my clerk, too, but only off the clock. She’s my girlfriend, too, in case you wondered, but we’re both bi. Suffice it to say that if we want dick, we kinda have to share. Monogamy was never going to work for Anna or me. Just understand that she’s my primary partner, my main squeeze. Don’t try to mess with that. I’m Caroline, by the way,” the proprietor continued, flirting brazenly with both of us as Shiraz came quietly. I could feel her moan gently as a mild vibration through my manhood in her mouth. It was clear that she was willingly giving herself to me. And it was clear that I was going to let her. My fingers started exploring her pussy, my thumb exploring her anus. She was soft and wonderful. The feel of each fold of her soft, warm, center brought a sick gratification to my brain. As I finger fucked her she began bobbing her head up and down my shaft, trying like hell to make me cum. But I wasn’t going to make it easy for her. I was savoring each moment, holding out on her to make it last as long as humanly possible. In my sadistic, demented mind, I decided to make her work for it. I gripped the back of her head with my left hand, palming it as if I was palming a basketball. Then I began shoving her head down into my lap with each stroke. She was taking it like a champ. So I shoved her even harder. My hips began thrusting upward into her face with each stroke downward. Occasionally I’d stop.
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