Indian Sensuality From The Orient mp4

Only the sound of the light moan clued me into the fact she was there. "Wha. Why are you standing there? I asked you to wait downstairs." Before I could say anything else she was standing in front of me. She smiled wickedly as she placed a finger against my lips. I could smell the pungent fumes of her pussy as she smiled at me. "Be quiet my little one, I know how wet you are, and I can see in your eyes that you need this as much as I want it." I was in no place to argue. My mind raced, I know I wanted whatever she was going to do to me, but I could not seem to be so easy. I struggled; this seemed to spur her on. She leaned forward and kissed me, her lips were soft, and I could feel her tongue sliding into my mouth. As she kissed me, she pulled on my panties, making the sheer material go into the crack of my pussy. I whimpered deeply into her mouth as her hand slowly played with my crotch. She pulled me to the bed and pushed me down onto the various loose pieces of underwear. I could. Yoko was immersing me in a new world, one in which I was returning to my wild past and indulging my sexual thirst. But my past was my past and things were different now—I was married, after all. And yet I’d visited the exclusive massage studio three more times since Yoko had originally taken me there. I’d been drunk that first time, drunk and horny, and had been unable to resist Táchira as he took the massage to a different level. But since then I’d known exactly what I was doing. Yoko had arranged and paid for the further appointments, twice weekly, persuasively telling me that by relieving my sexual tensions in such a discreet way, I’d be better prepared to take care of Nick’s needs when he needed attention. It was the Japanese way, she’d convincingly explained. I’d gone along with the strange logic, telling myself that she knew better than I and that I’d do anything to help Nick’s wellbeing. But inside my mind, my little voice was whispering the truth. The real reason I was.
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