Desi Aunty Brinjal

One might think she was the vulnerable one. What with his palms braced against her shoulders, but that simply wasn’t the case. He was a guy. And that made him weak no matter what position he thought gave him leverage.With eye contact maintained, she slid her hand ever so slowly between them. Over the ridge of her hips. Through her forest of slick curls. She was slick though—maybe even more than before he interrupted her—and that on its own was strange. But not as strange as the lumber that. As her first orgasm swept over her, she sagged against the wall, begging Roger to stop. Roger pulled away, his face glistening with her aromatic musk. He picked her up and walked over to the bed, gently placing her next to her husband.She turned to Robert and asked. "Which would you prefer, darling, playing with my tits or watching Roger, here, up close and personal, not-so-secretly service the presidential pussy. Either way, you will be well rewarded."Robert smiled and said, "I think I'll take. I jumped in the car as mom sat there with her skirt in her hands and her shirt halfway unbuttoned. I felt like a criminal who just escaped prison as mom rolled down the window and threw her skirt out as we sped away. I guess she figured the shirt covered enough. We stopped at a few other places as mom flashed me her naked form and after about an hour she decided to take me to the lake where dad owns a speed boat. Since age didn’t matter, I drove the boat while mom sat playing with her pussy. Jacques Tremblay, a fellow student in medicine, a Frenchman, all of a sudden started appearing at our house, and during Easter of their final year they announced to Dad and Mom their plans to get married in late July and then move to France to live and practice medicine."Are you crazy?" I demanded one day soon after their announcement, "Mary, he's not for you. He'll never satisfy you. He's a" Shut up Peter. You're just jealous," she laughed, feeling she had the upper hand. "He's kind and rich.
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