Anara Gupta - Miss Jammu Indian Sex Tape

It’s a small slip but she knows that I saw it. Lisa flashes me a coy smile. She maneuvers onto the raft. I follow on my raft. We swam for a while, floating on the floaties, soaking up rays. We drift and float continuing our conversation. I see Betsy and Jeff sitting and chatting on the front bench seat together while the music plays. A gentle breeze pushes us away from the boat. I can’t hear Betsy or Jeff. Lisa too has drifted farther from me and it’s hard to hear each other. I paddle to her. She grabs my raft and pulls us together. Her head is at my feet and visa versa. I hold her raft too, every once and awhile, a wave from a boat on the main lake passing by breaks over the raft and startles her. The cold water on her chest raises her nipples. I notice that her bathing suit is riding up her crotch. It’s tight against her and the water helps to show the outline of her pussy. Her lips are noticeable; no sign of a bush. I’m sure she catches me staring at her. Occasionally she adjusts. Then, there was a perceptible difference in the posture her body took, and she moved closer to me and the formerly inadvertent touch was reestablished. The connection was not so direct or overt, but rather it felt like a tentative exploration that made brief but sure contact, abandoned the field momentarily, then closed in again. It was if she was carefully examining it without looking at it or taking it in her hand to gain full comprehension. When the song ended, I led her back to the booth, and although we still sat across from each other, we now maintained contact at the ankles and both spoke more gently and studied each others faces more intently than before. I had a few misgivings that the glasses framing my face probably denied my attraction to the outdoors and sports, but felt good that sitting in the booth probably made me look taller than I am. I do know that looking in her eyes did little to help slow the pace of the thoughts that were suddenly urging me to action that.
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