Indian Muslim Wife Foreplay With Husband

Jet's of steaming hot water hit you from all sides as you start to feel more human.In the distance, you can hear the shrill of bleep of your phone as it nags you with an abundance of morning messages. Ignoring it you carry on enjoying the water that surrounds you, upon leaving the sower you feel refreshed and wide awake. You enjoy the feel of the fluffy towel against your body whilst drying yourself down. Not wanting to catch a cold you slip into your denim jeans and eagerly pull a faded t-shirt over you slender torso. Your phone bursts into life again, wondering what all the commotion is about you dash over to the bedside table and pick up the wailing device.Instinctively you hold your thumb on the home button until the device unlocks. As the screen bursts into life you casually glance down, your eyes widen in surprise as you greeted with an abundance of notifications. For some perplexing reason in the space of an hour, you've had ten missed calls, fifteen texts and a heap of social. My jaw dropped, it was not John standing there. Instead what stood in front of me was the most gorgeous women I had ever seen. I am about as straight as they come, but I can appreciate feminine beauty, and she was beautiful. “Sorry I'm early,” she laughed. I gawked at her. “Actually I was wondering if I could ask you for some water?” It took me a few seconds to respond, the woman standing in front of me was a goddess. Her long amber hair was tied back in a pony tail. Her immense breasts were harnessed in a neon pink sports bra. Her body was exquisite, tan, defined and a glistening with sweat. Her black yoga pants hugged her hips tightly. I stepped back, still having yet to respond, “Umm of course...water?” She smiled at me. “Yeah, I know this is weird but I feel like I'm going to pass out, I forgot my bottle and I'm absolutely dying.” “Sure,” I said. “Come in.” She followed me in the house, as she did, I was suddenly aware that I was soaking wet, with a bathrobe hanging loosely off.
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