Desi Girl Fingering Pussy

And he knows how hard I find it to resist his charms. (Charms and snakes go hand in hand, I try to remind myself. But it does not good. Not in Lin’s case.) Lin’s name is Lyndon, after the President, a fact that he’s quite vain about. But we all call him Lin. I’m not sure if it’s just to knock him down a peg, but if so, believe me, it hasn’t hurt him a bit. Lin is nine years older than me which makes him 38, but he still thinks he’s a college frat boy. He wears sweatshirts, drinks beer and chases women. I think it’s his job! Actually, he’s a D.J. for a local outfit that works weddings and parties and other functions. He’s also a designer for a graphics firm during the day, and he plays the guitar for fun (and seduction) and takes nature photographs which he sells to magazines. He’s a very busy man, yet he always manages to look like a slacker. His dark brown hair falls into his eyes regularly, and I think he uses that as an excuse for why he can’t see half the time. He would never. He put his hand on top of mine to hold it there. He smiled happily. I laughed at his enthusiasm.“Ooh, I need you,” he said.“My father will…will…be so, so mad at me,” I said. “And you!”He couldn’t talk. He was too busy rubbing my hand against his prick.“He’s probably pacing the room right now wondering where his wayward daughter is.”He put his arm around my waist and lifted me up, turned me around so I was sitting on his knee. He wrapped his arms around me. All my next excuses got buried in another long kiss.His hand was getting adventurous, playing with the big buttons of my shirtwaist dress. My legs squirmed under his advance. His hands were on my thighs. My kisses got louder. I was moaning for him to slow down, but I was also holding his face and drinking in his tongue. His hands were on my hips. I rolled too much and felt his erection against my thighs. I gasped when his hands crawled up to my breasts. I gulped and tried to catch my breath as he squeezed. I groaned at how good.
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