Indian Pretty Villager Girl

In fact, you seem like the kind of guy I thought I was getting married to when he and I wed. Some girl is going to be lucky to meet a guy like you someday. Anyhow ‒ Thanks.” She leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek.I headed back to my room with my head swimming. I certainly had been wrong about her. She was not “head case”. In fact, she was one of the most decent, rational women I had ever met. The thought of her kiss went through my mind, but I erased it realizing that I was being totally ridiculous even thinking that I would ever be anything more to her than “her best friend’s son.” I have to admit that she was the subject of my dreams that night.The next morning, I woke up and decided to get going early. I wrapped a towel around my waist and headed for the shower. As I approached Carrie’s room I noticed the door was slightly open and couldn’t help peeking in as I walked by. I guess I had hoped for ‒ but didn’t expect the sight before me. Carrie had obviously showered and. "Certainly," I return in a deep husky voice that surprises you, "whatever you need." You emerge from behind the returns counter, late book in hand and beckon me with a tilt of your head to follow you along the wide main passage between the rows of shelves. Your locks sway and bounce in rhythm to your steps toward the unvisited rear of the large room. You suddenly dart into one of the small passages between the shelves and deftly insert the late book back on a low shelf, without bending at the knees. I see the back of your toned upper legs become more visible as your skirt rides up your legs to accommodate your supple bend. I trace your tight, sexy butt stretching the tweed pencil skirt to its limit. I need to adjust the bulge in my jeans to accommodate a wayward thought of standing right against you, my belt and jeans buttons undone and your skirt raised two inches more. You flash me a smile as you walk past me, twirling at a strand of your hair. You see my hand slip into my jeans.
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