I Got Fucked By Indian Receptionist On My Business Trip

“Is it safe to be gallivanting over the heath on your own Rachel?”“Mother; I’ll be thirteen in ten days time; and that’s what I want to ask you!”“Ask me what Rach?”“Birthday present! Can I have a dog for my birthday!”“A Dog! Good grief Rachel ... your Father won’t have that! no way!”She turned away from me and sulked off to her bedroom and I didn’t think much more of it.An hour or so later when Robert came in, Rachel reappeared.She’d cast off the dowdy outfit, and had got herself up altogether more alluringly; barefooted in a very short skirt. I was a little shocked.She’d waited until her father had sat back in his armchair before closing in on him; sitting lightly on his lap and draping her bare arm around his neck. Robert was charmed for a few moments, his hand straying onto her bare thigh; his fingers dangerously close to her cunt. I was transfixed.But when Rachel revealed what she was after, Rober’s hand withdrew; and her pouty pleading could not penetrate Roberts resolve; the. I found myself staring at them from above, watching as they moved gracefully around, enjoying the sight as they bent over to pick up plants for customers, drinking in their sheer vitality and style. I don’t know how long I watched them, but I was only jolted from my reverie by the reminder from my phone of the meeting and I reluctantly dragged myself away. I knew though that I was not going to let these two women slip away without getting to know them, even if I had to buy up their entire stock. The meeting took us through lunch. Normally I would have suggested we broke for lunch but I wanted to get back to the plant fair, so I pleaded another meeting and we carried on through. Even so it was close to three before I got away and I as panicking slightly that they might have packed up and gone. I rushed downstairs and grabbed a taxi back to the city centre. The stalls in the market place were thinning out now so I wasted no time and dashed inside, breathing a sigh of relief as I saw.
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