Desi Indian Girl
‘Hey babe, what’s up?’ he said. ‘Is your boss still planning on coming over for dinner?’ she asked, as she stared out the windshield of her car and tried to make out her surroundings. The idea of having Rick’s boss sitting down at their dinner table had been, for the most part very appealing. It was rare for the head honcho to sit across from one of the lesser known employees, and when he did do it, according to Rick, it almost always meant a promotion was on the table. Now though as she took in the bad weather she began to second guess hosting the meal. It was obvious it was not going to be an impressive one. ‘Yeah, he is,’ Rick said over the phone, bringing Renee back to reality. ‘It sucks, I know, but we both know how important this dinner is. Is there any way you can get home in time to make it as spectacular as we’d hoped?’ Rick eased slowly along the entrance ramp to the interstate, all the while keeping an eye on the road and an ear tuned to his wife. He knew she. Her guide slipped a coin in the box saying that that was complimentary, and told her to enjoy the show, leaving her to it, and suggesting she locked the door behind him. Feeling safe, as she locked herself in, she removed her light summery dress, hanging it behind the door. Not being over-equipt in the boob department and still having pert and pretty breasts that have no sag, she was not wearing a bra, and she had stopped wearing knickers some time ago loving the feeling of air round her usually damp crutch and always ready crutch. Switching out the light, and completely naked now bar her shoes and watch, she sat in the flickering light of the film to play with herself and to wait. She felt rather than saw eyes looking through one of the holes, checking her out, in the flickering light of an orgy on the film. An anonymous hand appeared through the hole, she moved to allow it reach her cunt, felt the fingers pushing into her, the hand played in her lips for a short time, gentle though.
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