Indian Woman Moaning While Fucked

I was . . . watching you,” I confessed.Smiling, she said seductively, “A little turned on, are we?” When I didn’t say anything, she said, “Hey, let’s dance in the moonlight.”“What about the men?” I whispered.“Oh, they’re probably all asleep by now,” she said.She danced toward me, moving erotically to the music. I basked in the scent of her soft hair and flesh. She leaned into me, her body feeling hot. I couldn’t stop myself from moving her hair aside and kissing her bare neck and shoulders. Goosebumpsrose from her skin.The breeze caressed us as we moved to the music. Her arms enveloped me. I stroked her thinly-clad body ever so gently. I was lost.I planted butterfly kisses all over Tammy’s neck, shoulders, and arms and pulled at her loose blouse, which dropped to her waist exposing firm nipples waiting for attention. I circled her areolae with my tongue without touching her raspberry nipples until she was begging for more. I thought her juicy berries would burst. I could only imagine. I went to the supermarket. I gave up on the cooking idea, only for a week or two of course, until I get adjusted, then I'll get back to it. So I bought loads of microwave meals for one. Then I felt bitterly ashamed and embarrassed as I waited to check-out. I felt everyone in the shop need only look at my trolley to know that I was a cuckolded husband.The only bright spot was that Phil phoned in the evening. Just checking on how I was. But he was kind, and he let me talk about Beth and how much I missed her. Even in my misery, and even when talking to my best friend, with whom I should be honest, I made sure that he got no real idea of the true story of Beth and Ken from me. I didn't like that, but let her feel the shame of telling them.I went to bed thinking that maybe that was my revenge. Making her have to be honest with everyone on what a bitch she really was. She wouldn't like that.But she got her own back in the small hours, haunting me with images of her and that bastard.Monday.
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