Indian Pussy

I barely touched it when I shuddered. I placed my palm on her side then her tummy. I caressed it for a bit marveling that she was right, firm yet soft. My hand seemed to have a mind of its own I wasn't really aware that I turned it letting my fingernails trace her abs, hips, tummy I felt every muscle I could. I watched my hand glide over her tautness not believing what I was doing. I didn't feel odd or anything like that. I was touching her as if I'd discovered some magical gift and I was in awe. Her breathing became deeper, her stomach muscles twinged as my fingertips traced her abs repeatedly across then up and down. She giggled trying to hold in a laugh when I realized I was tickling her. I apologized and she said not to worry. She was enjoying the look on my face, my fascination was priceless. I blushed deep red with that and she placed her hand under my chin lifting my wide eyed bedazzled face to look at her, telling me not to be embarrassed. Her hand then slipped over mine,. Every now and again she felt cold breath against the back of her neck, her cheek. She tried to write it off as a draught, wind perhaps, but the way it touched her skin so specifically made her question her own judgement. Besides, shouldn’t breath be hot? Stumbling on, Gemma felt the floor beneath her feet change to something more solid. So she’d survived ‘earth’, what was next? She couldn’t remember. Wind? Water? ‘Are you certain you’re going the right way?’ A soft voice whispered in her ear and she jumped, letting out a small scream as she quickened her step. Out of nowhere a blast of cold air hit her, almost knocking her off her feet. It was unnaturally strong, like walking into a wind tunnel, that answered her question of what was next at least. Fighting against the wind, Gemma found herself using the rope to pull herself along, her legs not strong enough to move her on their own. ‘Is your soul pure, little girl,’ the voice came from in front of her, just to the right. .
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