Desi South Indian Fucked By Hubby In Kitchen
As she hid in the air duct between theoffices and the mall she pondered her life of the last few months. Thehumiliating training at the hands of the schizophrenic second levelgirls...acting all high-and-mighty, like they're actually happy to behere. The disgusting acts she'd been forced to perform for those horriblemale managers. And worse, those female managers; so intent on making herfeel weak and pathetic in her new life as a girl.You see, she hadn't always been a girl. She'd once been a successfulbusinessman. Emphasis on the MAN. One business trip and an overnight stayat the Dentelle hotel later, he was in a skirt and heels, and was beingcalled Bambi. 'She' couldn't really tell what was the worst part of thewhole experience. Was it the humiliation? The sex? The clothing? Or theburning desire to cave in and just accept it all?To be like those second level 'girls' who wiggle their asses down thehallways. The ones who seem to get the attentions of management for allthe RIGHT. Wear whatever you want but I feel like I should massage you because you do so much for me, I owe it to you.”This softened her up “okay honey, I’m gonna grab a shower I will be right there.”After about 15 minutes she entered the room with her robe on. I wanted to ask her if she had underwear on underneath but I quickly thought better of it. “Ok lie down Mom, I am going to give you a long massage, I need to do your legs too because you run so much, I don’t want you getting cramps.”“Uhm ok, but your not allowed to go any higher than my quads.” She said sternlyShe lied down and I once again rolled her robe down to her waist.“Fuck” I whispered to myself as I her wearing a very conservative bra.I massaged her shoulders for a while to get her relaxed before I asked“Mom your bra is really getting in the way do you mind if unhook the straps”“Sure honey.” She said in a dream like way, my massage was really lowering her defenses. I unhooked her bra and threw it to the floor. This brought her.
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