Fucking Married Indian Woman While Husband Records

Blah, blah, blah. I live with my mum, just the two of ussince Dad died. That's my stepdad, not my real dad. Daddy Bastard'sstill around somewhere, probably. We haven't heard from him in ages.Not that we want to.And I really can't concentrate on this because Aunt Lucy is moving intoa nursing home and I'm worried about her. It's not, like, really,really serious yet, but she can't really look after herself any moreand it's so sad. She's not really my aunt, but she helped look after mewhen I was a kid, when we moved out after...after my dad did what hedid to me. She was like a granny, always giving me sweets and things,and I could go round any time, whenever I didn't feel like being athome. She was always there and now I won't see her so much. But I'mgoing to visit her this afternoon. So maybe I'd be better doing thislater.***So Aunt Lucy doesn't think she's ever going to come out of the home.She needs to sell her flat to pay for it and she's getting rid of mostof her things and she says. At the ripe age of 18 she had perfect perky breasts with the most beautiful puffy bronze nipples I had ever seen. She was a small girl, standing at about 5' 5" and weighing no more than 120lbs and her ass defied gravity. But what especially turned me on was that she was a hairy girl. Besides the happy trail leading from her belly button to her pussy, her hair extended back to her tight little star between her ass cheeks. I even think she had hair on her toes, but removed it thinking that's what guys prefer. While she was probably right about most guys, I always like a natural woman. But was too shy and inhibited to even ask her.We dated for about a year and, like I said, stuck mostly to heavy petting. Until one night. One night at her parent's place. We snuck off to the dining room and laid down under the table and began to make out. I pulled her house dress up and began to fondle her perky breasts and started to kiss her passionately. I let my hands wander down to her little belly.
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