My Real Desi Wife

They began innocuous enough: Did I like her perfume? Why was the music in this place always so crap? But it ramped up steadily. Did I want to try her drink? What did I think of the girls in here? Then her hand was on my thigh, eyeing me with that sullen, provocative glare that some girls can carry off. It only happened when D was absent from the table and it was getting progressively more pointed.Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, the bombshell hit: Did I think her knickers were. I winced as his hard shaft pushed open my butthole and slid into me. Then I pushed back until his entire rod had impaled me. I opened up fast and the pain became a wave of pleasure as the cock rocked into my anus…The slapping sounds of penetration rang down the empty hall as the four of us picked up the pace. Now I was bent over with my face as close to the old man’s cock. I watched him shooting pre cum into the young guy’s asshole. I collected some with my fingers and tasted it, as the man. Both watched TV. Music channel was on and playing romantic numbers. The song now playing was “hothon pe bas tera naam hai….” (if you people know this is a song very erotic and picturised on kajol and saif ali khan). The song got both Neha and Amit into mood. Both were dancing passionately holding each other. Amit dropped Neha’s dupatta and started getting more physical with her, as she started soon to resist a little. Amit was getting restless smelling her fragrance and her rich skin. He was. It seemed she was right when she saw his name in the newspaper… his nametag, the same shade of fluorescent green as she, said ‘STEVEN Cohen.’ No matter how much time had passed, he was still Stevie, she could still see her friend in him. But, damn, time did the kid justice! No longer a scrawny little shrimp, Stevie was taller then most kids his age, instead of shorter, as he used to be. He’d put on a lot of muscle, and finally grew into his limbs, it seemed. Samantha was shocked- he grew out.
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