Tamil Housewife With Her Indian Husband Massage...

It was a small company owned privately by a Mr. Franklin Potter. He was the founder and a very kind gentleman.When I started with the company Mr. Potter was in his 60's and still working every day. He was in his office by 7:00 am and still there at 7:00pm. All the employees loved him because of the way he treated them. If anyone called him "Mr. Potter", they got a dressing down."My name is Frank! My father was Mr. Potter and he's dead now," was usually how the dressing down began. When he finished, he smiled and said, "Please?"I was hired as a front office employee. My job was to be a secretary, personal assistant, switchboard operator, gofer and basically a "Girl Friday" for all the men working in the front office. It was a small company and everyone pitched in.I met my husband Phil at a Starbucks near where I worked. Physically he was exactly the type of man I was drawn to. He was about 6' tall and around 200 pounds. He wasn't a bit fat, but looked as if he had a hard body under. I just signaled her with my fingers that she is looking so appealing. She smiled and said thank you which I can easily read her lips. I just asked for her house phone no. but she said no, after asking again and again she signaled me her phone no. with her fingers which I wrote down. I called after about an hour and she picked up the phone. I was standing with the codeless in my room and she too was sitting in her bedroom.I just uttered slowly “BHABHI AAP BAHUT KHOOBSURAT DIKHTI HO” “MAIN AAP SE BAHUT SARI BAATEIN KARNA CHAHTA HOON” and she replied” KAISI BAAT” and I said “JO AAP KO PASAND HO” AUR MUJHE BHI”.Soon we startes meeting outside our locality. Now once I took her to one restaurant which has specially built square section where all the college guys and girls do naughty things under the small section.I took Sanjana Bhabi there and while eating took my one foot out of my shoe and rubbed her ankle, she smiled at me and then I dared to squeeze one of her tits and pinch her nipples.
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