Mallu Aunty Backdoor

She replied, “Oh yeah. That was Reginald. He is a friend of mine. He works with another friend of mine and I am helping him prepare his taxes.”I smiled to myself and the conversation moved on to other topics. Dinner was delicious, we finished one bottle of wine and opened another. As the warm, fuzzy effect of the wine took over, Gracie’s language got a bit saltier and she even told a few dirty jokes. At one point she was standing at a kitchen counter pouring wine for us and I decided to just go for it.I walked up behind her and slipped my hands around her waist. I then kissed her gently on the side of her neck. This caused her to close her eyes and let out a deep sigh. She turned to face me and our kiss went deep and wet with a lot of tongue. She was an exciting and erotic kisser. She made her tongue dance in ways that had me wondering what else she could do with it.We moved to the couch where we began full on grope mode. I freed her breasts from her bra and was pleased to discover. I grew up in lively Boston. Home of Massachusetts first African-American Governor, the wise and wonderful Deval Patrick. Man, I left Boston a year after Barack Obama got elected President of the United States of America. I didn’t want to leave. I felt like Boston was my home. I had many friends there, from my high school and collegiate days. I graduated from Hyde Park High School and Bunker Hill Community College, both of which are well-known Boston schools. I considered myself a Boston man, albeit one without a driver’s licence, a steady job or a social security number. I was the Invisible Man. I missed Boston sorely my first few months in the City of Ottawa. I didn’t understand Canadians. I found them cold, fake and bigoted. All of them without exception. Understand that it had nothing to do with color. I just found these people really weird. Anyhow, my attitude didn’t endear me to them. They thought of me as a typical American asshole with my swagger and my thick Boston accent..
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