Indian Aunty Sucking Dicks Of Her Clients

“Why are the glasses red? Didn’t they used to be clear?”“They’ve been red all term.”“I thought they used to be clear.” She set the glass on the table.“Nope, they’ve been red all along. Always red plastic glasses for soda. Don’t you remember?”“I guess I never noticed ‘til now.”“Is it a problem?”“I ... The red obscures the color of the soda.”“The color? Of the soda?”“ ... if something was wrong with it ... someone put something in it — it would change the color of the soda ... But I can’t see. Dark hair curled around the face and down to the shoulders, adding to the figure’s invisibility under the gloom of the forest at night. In the right hand was a pistol, cocked already. The hand holding it was black-gloved. The well-trained horse was tethered well back from the road. In concentration the figure remained motionless, eyes and ears attuned to the slightest provocation of their senses. Suddenly the hand on the pistol clenched a little tighter as the sound of a horse’s hooves came low. Soon I slipped another finger just inside and waited for her to relax some more; as she relaxed, I pushed the two fingers in and waited again, soon she had relaxed fully and I fucked her with my fingers some more. I then thought I would try three, following the same routine I soon has 3 fingers slowly pumping her ass. She was in ecstasy, asking me to fuck her ass, begging me. I withdrew my fingers and slid her leg forward, her on her side, exposing her puckered hole. My cock was rock hard again. My wife was particularly fussy - pulling out all our dusty old stuff tends to stress her out.She was wearing Birkenstocks, ragged cut-off jean shorts pushed low on her hips, and a threadbare tank top with no bra. She was up on a six foot step ladder struggling with a faded cardboard box high on a shelf. The tape holding the box together had turned yellow and brittle with age, so that when she hauled it down the bottom fell out, dumping the contents.“Shit!” She exclaimed, throwing the empty box.
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