This Has Nothing To Do With Indian Women Yet...

She looked up at the clock again, anxiously awaiting the return of her husband from the "emergency" meeting of the church's Board of Directors, a meeting HE'D called. She didn't know what time to expect him, but felt it should have been at least 30 minutes ago.She was just getting ready to polish the forks a third time, when the front door opened. She dropped her rag on the kitchen table and practically flew through the house. She stopped as soon as she entered the entryway and looked at Bill. He had just set his briefcase down and was settling his body onto the bench with a groan. His suit jacket lay on the entry table. His tie was loosened and his shirt—which had been a crisp white when he left hours earlier—was rumpled and wet with sweat. The day was a typical hot, muggy day of late June. He didn't look up at her as he lifted his foot to unlace his shoe, and she instantly knew that he was upset. She waited only another few seconds for him to speak before finally stepping. She picked up the soap and held it out to him.“Wash me,” she said softly.He thought he’d die as his hands slid across her naked body. He’d never seen a naked woman before, much less touched one. He’d jacked off every day since he’d met her, thinking of something just like this, and now he was here, with her and she was letting him touch her. He washed around her breasts until she turned her back to him, and he thought she had become shy at last. But she pressed back against him, taking his hands, and brought them to her breasts. His hands naturally cupped them and then her head was lying back on his shoulder as he explored her young, firm melons.“I like that,” she whispered as he realized his prick was pressing into the crack between her buttocks. Somehow, inexplicably, she seemed not to notice that.Then his hand slid down to her belly, and he was shy again, until she pressed his hand and made it go between her legs. He couldn’t help but explore.Her head turned and she whispered in.
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