Desi Village Bhabhi Washing Clothes 2

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I want a more continuous, urgent pressure… and you won’t give it to me.Instead, without picking him up, you place your tender damp lips either side of my now throbbing shaft and work your way upwards. You work your way downwards, and then up again. This is so slow, so tender and intimate, I’ve not known anything remotely like this before. Nothing breaks the still silence of the room but my now laboured breathing. I’m desperate to come, and you know it. All I can do is to flex my hand in yours, where you feel and reciprocate your desire to share this loving gift, this intimate moment. You take my shaft in your right hand in an upright position and gently rub me up and down between thumb and forefinger. Your fingers are skilled and practised, but it is as though you are rediscovering dormant skills. You take your time as you know how much I need to climax, and you want to prolong our mutual pleasure further. You need not have worried, your touch is exquisite. After a moment’s sublime. He leaned me over and started fucking my pussy. We made a lot of noise. The other woman in the store came into the dressing area and stood and watched me getting fucked for a while. She didn't act upset or walk away. Just stood and watched. Obviously a swinger. She left and her man came back and watched for a while too. Before long, he was stroking a stiff dick. Stanley pulled out, and this guy began fucking me some more. I rubbed my clit, while he fucked me. It was so exciting. My Daddy came back led by the other girl. Clearly another swinger like us. She took off her skirt and shirt, shoes and socks. She had Daddy put some really nice stocking on her. Daddy took off her panties and rubbed her pussy. He sat her on his dick shoved up her pussy. And the 4 of us watched each other fucking. The mirrors in the dressing rooms made it even more interesting. The men traded us girls for more fucking. After a while, the other guy made his wife walk out into the customer area to humiliate her..
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His looked a little tumescent, not what she would call hard. It was semi-erect. She half giggled to herself, he had a semi. She took her fingers and softly stroked up and down the length of his shaft. She touched the tip, the head, as men liked to call it. She was surprised at how fast it started to get big. She stifled another giggle. This was something she’d never ever dreamed of doing with any other man. Somehow it seemed OK with him. She kept touching and gently smoothing it with the tips of her fingers. He’d been circumcised, and she was glad of it. She couldn’t imagine living with a filthy Philistine. Sorrel noticed the rhythm of his breathing had changed. She glanced over, and saw him looking at her. He asked, ‘What are you doing?’ ‘I’m touching your thingy.’ Puzzled, Fletcher commented, ‘My thingy?’ She asked, ‘All right what do you call it?’ He grinned, and answered in a low gruff tone, ‘I call him Mr. Tibbs!’ ‘Oh shit,’ she responded, ‘Is that the best you can do?’ ‘OK,’.

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