British Indian Housewife From Bradford In Sari...

There was a certain time and place for men and women to go. Women would go mostly in the mornings or late at nights. I had a desire to see my aunt going to relieve herself but I would always miss the chance as I would get up late. One morning I had a bad dream and so I got up suddenly. It was barely 6.30 and the sun was coming up. I saw my aunty going out of the house stealthily. There was no one in the house. My brother was in town. She took a small pail of water and went to the bushes. I could not believe my luck. MY aunt was wearing a saree and it accentuated her carves. She also covered the top of her head with a cloth as is the norm with village lady, besides it was winter season. I followed her stealthily all the time, staring at her full voluptuous ass. I knew that today I will be able to see her in the act and also watch the object of my affection- her butt in total nudity. She took her place in a thicket of bushes on top of a small slope near the river. I was watching. He liked the fact that such a successful intelligent man as himself would get used in such a degrading way by this agonizingly beautiful aging figure of authority. Or maybe it was that he liked his job so much that he was ready to use his years of training to resist the incessant sexual torture and convince himself that he didn’t like it.Marc was pulled out of his thoughtful state by the strange familiar feelings that the combination of tongue, lips, pallets and saliva brought to his already erect shaft. He thought he heard her say something as his penis was being repeatedly drowned and resurrected from the hellish heat and humidity of his boss’s mouth. He could make out some of the few gray hair Mireille’s head, like wavy rivers progressively pouring the effects of time in an unwilling body.“Aller vient. Prends moi bien dur. (Come here. Take me hard).” Said Mireille as she lifted up her short skirt and pulled aside an already wet panty. Something happened. Mark blacked out again..
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