Indian Amature

Work itself took its normal course, we had lots of visitors in, whichmeant making lots of teas and coffees, which as I mentioned beforealways humiliated me more than any other task. Wiggling around theoffice with a stupid bimbo smile asking if they wanted milk and sugarand carrying drinks to guys in business suits while I wore a skirt,blouse and heels was soul destroying. I tried to ignore the men whowere ogling me, some seemed fixated on my tits, others on my legs ormy huge ass. Unfortunately there was no way of hiding any of it fromthem, and I had no alternative but to put up with it. At least, unlikethe night club I was in, they kept their hands to themselves. Whilstin the kitchen washing the cups and mugs I overheard two mendiscussing myself and Molly. One of the visitors had asked a managerwho we were, to be told that "Molly was the younger one, and Janice isthe older blonde woman with the massive tits", with the discussiongoing on to debate the merits of who between me and Molly. Eventually Matt’s hand came to a stop, the butt of his palm on her back with his fingers wrapped around her side, just barely touching the side of her boob. Her large, firm, hard-nippled teenage tit. His daughter’s. Matt was scared at how she might react if he went any further. Everything he had done up to this point could be excused as accidental or harmless, but if he moved his hand any further around there would be no doubt for either of them that he was fondling his young daughter’s breast. He was paralyzed. Anna was dying to feel his hand wrap around and grab her tit. Her nipples were so hard and sensitive it almost hurt, and her clit was no longer merely tingling – it was burning for attention. As her frustration mounted she realized his hand was going no further; she would have to make the next move. But what could she do? What if he wasn’t really feeling her up, what if his boner had nothing to do with her? Would he think she was a perverted slut for throwing herself at.
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