Fucking Shy Indian Girlfriend

.. I stood straddle-legged... surely he had a full view of my ass and pussy... as I did I could feel the skirt raise up expose my nylon covered ass even more... and just then a slight breeze swept through the parking lot blowing my flimsy skirt completely up... my glistening, pantyhose ass now in full view. He moved towards me and laughed as he did. Whoa there... we don’t want everyone to see that beautiful ass of yours, do we? With that he gently tugged my skirt back down and as he did he allowed his hand to travel down the outside of my right stocking clad thigh. His hand then moved towards my left inner thigh and he moved it slowly up towards my crotch... his fingers now were resting firmly on my pussy... he slowly moved them back and forth across my now slightly wet nylon-covered cunt. Then perhaps realizing that we were in public, he quickly jerked his hand back. That’s okay, I said, you didn’t have to stop. What’s your name by the way? Brad, he answered. What is yours? Aysia, I. ‘You’re not a foot man are you?’ she asked, as she held her leg up with one hand and pointed her foot. ‘I’ll fuck your feet or anything else you got, Doc.’ he replied, an edgy anger returning to his voice. As she sat there flexing her raised foot she saw that his eyes had now gone between her legs. She let her leg come back down and then climbed up onto the desk itself until she had reached a standing position. She unbuttoned her blouse slowly as she gazed down at him, revealing a bosom that was barely contained by her double D bra. She cupped her hands beneath each of her breats and pushed them together. ‘Or are you a tit man?’ she continued. ‘If you can fuck it, I like it.’ he replied, trying to control himself but unable to stop devouring her with his eyes. Then she unlatched her skirt and let it fall to her feet. The full power of her physical form was now revealed to him. She possessed the thighs of a cyclist and the carved abdomen of a belly dancer. She stepped out of the skirt.
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