Slapping An Indian Cuck Boyfriend

It awakened the sleeping giant of my own sexual potency. It had lain quiescent ever since Joe died, but now it began to stir. Barely forty years of age, with potentially many years of sexual activity before me, I began to feel the pangs of sensual hunger. That night I had for the first time in ages, to masturbate. It was a weeping affair as I longed for the reality of what I had lost in Joe. Some women I believe find greater satisfaction in masturbation than in the sexual act itself, this is not true for me. The sleeping giant, once wakened from sleep, not only stirred, but began to rampage through me. It got so I seemed always to be in a state of sexual arousal, my vagina always wet with my sexual fluid. I began to consider my options which seemed limited. Should I seek a man to gratify myself with, or did I need a doctor? The first option had its hazards, as many women know. If you are reasonably presentable, and I believed I was, it is not hard to get a man to “fuck you.” It is. I had to keep a poker face. Self control was not an option. The viscosity of pussy juices flowed freely on Jake’s finger. I had slowly exhaled. “Count each time my finger is inserted in you,” he whispered in my left ear. When he finished stroking my pussy with 233 strokes, Jake guided my left hand to my labia. There, under table and tablecloth, my clitoris was fully exposed to the air and hidden from the world. “Slowly, insert your left index finger in your cunt, five times.” Glancing looking into Jake’s eyes, I was subservient to his request. While, fingering my cunt, Jake’s cunt, I was not aware Jake was stroking his dick under the table. Jake intentionally dropped his fork under the table. “Give me your finger, Lyric. Mmmmm your cum is wine fit for the gods.” While he licked and sucked on my left index finger, he signaled to pick up his fork under the table. “Swallow what I give you.” Jake’s big brown dick was fixated on my mouth. I had to swallow every damn drop to.
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