Desi Village Wife Fucking Her Husband In Room

She was of average height and had long dark hair. She was very pretty,with a young white girl’s special innocent look. I guessed she was 15or 16. She was wearing a heavy sweater, but her short white cheerleaderskirt showed nice shapely legs. She may be have been a very younggirl, but judging from those legs she was ready to be a woman. My cockgot super hard as I watched this schoolgirl walk innocently towards me,her thighs moving gracefully within that short cotton skirt. She got closer. I was still behind my tree and she hadn’t seen me. Ichecked to make sure no one was around. My black cock was justthrobbing by now. She was now just a few steps away. I waited, like an Africanpredator. She passed the tree but didn’t see me. She was carrying asmall knapsack, no doubt filled with books and homework. She walkedunconcernedly past me, her shapely legs moving softly together, hervirgin hips swaying back and forth within her short skirt, tapping alongon her little feet. . She had given the courier a small tipfrom the left pocket of the apron she had been wearing. The courier hadwished her all the best and had walked back to his van. It left the veryhumble townhouse neighborhood.She, once, had been younger and had known so much more about life.She was older now. Her hair was salt and pepper and hung lifelessly. Herforehead was wrinkled: age and worry. Her eyes were tired. Cheeks thathad once burst with colour were now splotched and pallid. There was nosmile on her lined face. The corners of her mouth were turned down.She cradled the parcel as a mother would cradle a child. She rememberedthe very first time he had tried to latch on, searching, struggling,crying. Her nipple had comforted him then. Her breasts were useless now.She slowly moved into the modest living room. She remembered that, inthis room, he had first crawled, first stood, and first said "ma-ma". Shecould still hear it: that sound of pure living joy. Silently, itresonated even now through.
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