Romantic Desi Porn Of A Delhi Girl Fucking Like A Slut

I intended staying at least until Maggie got back, Steve offered to drop Emma off at home and so after I locked the gates I went back to the office to catch-up with some studying. I was about three thirty when I heard Maggie’s Range Rover on the back lane and the side gate opening. I went down and she was standing in the yard. She looked cold and tired and it was starting to rain again. ‘Lock up and come up to the house for a hot drink,’ she said, ‘I’ll wait for you in the car!’ It took me no time to close up the office, grab my coat and lock the side gate. I climbed into the passenger seat and she drove up to the house. She left her keys in the ignition. ‘I’ll go in and make some coffee,’ she said, ‘Will you put the car in the garage for me?’ She got out of the car and went up to the house door whilst I ran around the car, got in and drove to the garage. It was almost déjà vu, I had a vision of the last time she had asked me to put the car away, and how that had led to my getting. Wow! I am extremely turned on and horny right now, are you? She sat there silently just staring at me, as if she was in shock... disbelief, confused or in shame of the way she was feeling. At that very moment, I really wanted to talk to her, hold and caress her while explaining to her my fetish. I wanted her to know how much she was turning me on....I wanted her to know how much my husband would be turned on. But above all, I wanted to make her feel comfortable with the situation. After finding out about my husband's fantasy, she actually said "wow!! We should surprise​ the shit out of him sometime!" I thought to myself... Well that's going to happen sooner than you think. Unfortunately, we were pulling into the hotel parking lot. I suddenly realized that I've ran out of time. In a smidge of a panic, that she would immediately run to the public restroom in the lobby. I loaded her up with our luggage. I let her know that I already checked us in online and I only needed to pick up a.
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