Punjabi

My cock was getting harder by the second. I knew she was probably right outside the front door but I didn't care. This was HOT!"We went to that dive bar we always wanted to try. Remember?" She continued. "He's got his hand on my leg. He wants me to kiss him. Do you want me to?" Do you want to?" I answered."Yes." Do it." My cock was stiffening as every text scrolled by on my phone.I waited for her response but nothing came. She must be driving I thought to myself but as the seconds turned to minutes I began to wonder." Where'd you go?" I asked but got nothing in return.Finally another text came across my phone, "Are you sure you want this?"Suddenly doubt crept into my mind. Was she really at that dive bar kissing another guy? How did I really feel about that? We had always discussed this fantasy but we never thought it would happen. Was she really....? I could barely breathe as I typed, "Yes. I want you to be the slut we both know is really inside you! Send me a. As each of them descends from the passenger car they meet my eyes and quickly look away. They each have the same motionless, ash-hued hair. They walk by me with familiar features perched on their faces: olive eyes defined by harsh cutting eyebrows, slender noses with tucked nostrils, moist fish lips and abrupt cheekbones. Each feature stinks of corruption and new money. The station is dyed a muddy color as the passengers walk robotically in their drab suits and matching, striped ties. The drumming of their fingertips on briefcase handles echoes throughout the station. The revolving exits devour them and spit them into the damp streets. I watch them disperse into the city like a horde of vermin eager to distribute pestilence. Through tinted glass they seem to be shadows, mere silhouettes of actual, breathing creatures. Groups of three spin into alleys and side streets, some climb wiry catwalks and vanish into the ceiling of fog. With their smell still thriving in my nostrils (gourmet.
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