Indian Desi Lover Romance In Taxi

But not his. When he looks at me, there’s nothing separating us. Even though everything is unspoken, there are no veils between us. Silence fills the room, except for the sound of us breathing and the sound of my pulse racing through my veins.“Yeah,” he says finally, no more than a whisper, “I’m afraid.”His honesty unmans me, clenches my guts and leaves me breathless. I want him. I tear my eyes from his, downward, to his mouth. He swallows hard. I want him so much. I see his lips part, his perfect white teeth, a hint of his tongue. My heart pounds as he leans in. I want this. Our lips melt together, hungry tongues find each other and dance together, rhythmic, tribal.Two serpents coiling together.We groan into each other’s mouths as we grind our bodies against each other. Our hips, our chests, our height, our bulk. Our sameness. It feels never-ending. Like the first kiss I ever had, I’m drunk from it, but unlike that kiss, which felt good because of the promise of what it would lead. She hung out with the wealthy, older crowd, and it was rumored she had a bit of money herself. It wasn't that I disliked rich people; I just didn't have anything in common with them. She reportedly worked for the State in some capacity, but no one knew for sure.I saw her shoulders shake and heard her quiet sobbing, along with the intermittent sound of ice in her glass. Torn between the urge to comfort her and her obvious desire for privacy, I silently stepped deeper into the nearby shadows and waited.She turned and put her glass on the rail. I watched in morbid fascination as her stomach rolled and heaved several times. She gagged and bent over the rail, spewing vomit into the bushes below. She did it once more, her hands gripping the rail. Finally she stood up, took a deep breath, then twisted around and crumpled into a heap on the flagstone.I ran to her side and knelt to check her airway. She seemed to be breathing okay, so I ran into the house for a washcloth. I grabbed two from.
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