South Indian Aunty Romantic Sex

She was barefoot, though that seemed the least of her problems, and her pale blond head was bare. The pouring rain felt icy cold against her fevered skin, and she staggered as she tried to make her exhausted body obey her commands. Her only defense against the dangers of the forest was a heavy stick, nearly as long as she was tall, crudely sharpened against rough stones until it could serve as both club and spear.She peered through the gathering darkness, trying to find the faint trail that she'd been following all of these weary days, but in the gloom one opening between the trees looked just like every other. Finally, she found a spot that was almost sheltered, beneath the trunk of a tree newly fallen to the storm's fury. She huddled against the shattered bole, stifling a racking cough as she determined to last out one more night.Warmth gradually returned to her numbed fingers and toes as the heat of her body dried her cloak, and she at last fell into a fitful slumber. Distorted. . it’s just that...”“No arguments. Mi casa su casa.”“Really? Wow, I love this bar.”The new guy heads for the bar’s men’s room and after a few minutes he returns to his barstool, but before resuming the conversation he makes an announcement.“Thank you for welcoming me to this fine establishment I’ve not felt this welcome in a long time. Bartender, I would like to but a round for the house.”“You got it. Hey everybody. The new guy has bought a round for the house.”As the locals were dinking and chatting, the neighborhood drunk came staggering into the bar and wanders off to the men’s room. A few seconds later there is an ear-shattering scream and the drunk comes running out of the men’s room, runs to the bar, reaches over and grabs the bartender by the front of his shirt and screams in his face.“THE BATHROOM! THE BATHROOM!”The bartender jumps over the bar and runs into the men’s room. He turns on the lights and find shit everywhere. There is shit on the walls. There is shit on the.
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