Indian Aunty Riding On Top With His Devar

Oh god, was he priming the pump?"Yes, you said you had been thinking about trying anal sex sometime. You've spoken to me about that on several occasions, but we always seemed to get distracted by the familiar." He spoke now with specific intent, as if he'd been thinking and planning this for a while. During his frank discussion, his finger kept up it's sensuous dance, dipping for moisture and painting my rosebud. I shifted again, bending my other knee slightly and raising my backside up a bit, spreading my legs to allow him better access to my nether regions."Mmmm," I growl deep in my throat as he finally dipped that moistened finger slightly into my backdoor."Oh, that feels good?" he asked, in mock surprise. His finger flew away again, swirling around my now parted lips, finding this openness to be alluring, even with the promise of something new beckoning him. But no, his finger returned, bringing more moisture and new determination. He slid his finger in further this time and left. "They have no idea, Kieu-Linh. They see her as slow. They see her as less than a woman. She paid a high price to protect people, maybe even someone they know. It makes me sick." He'd lost steam, the rage boiling over and leaving behind vapors and sadness.Kieu-Linh took his hand and started walking him down the street. Her skin was softer than he remembered, but perhaps it was his hand which grew more rough. It soothed him to feel her touch, the innocent warmth from her fingers slowly rubbing between his, was cool water on a sunburn, ice to his molten steel."I'm sorry," he said finally, after they'd walked in silence a couple of blocks. "I don't know where that came from." I do," she said without judgement, "it's called PTSD, and you don't need to apologize to me for it, James. My dad talked to me about it before I decided that I wanted to spent the Winter with you. You cry out in your sleep a lot, or ... you used to. Sometimes you just sit and stare off for a while. I talk to you, but.
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