Sexy Indian Wife Taking Massage

Walking forward, he knelt down on his knees. Sliding my panties down to expose my shaven mound, he licked his lips. I felt his hands on my thighs, going ever higher until they reached my aching apex. “So fucking beautiful…” I heard him say. He placed his hand on my pussy, covering it, sliding it down my slit before inserting a finger into my tight hole. “Your pussy is already wet baby.” He said. I was, my pussy was soaking wet for my Daddy. “Yes Daddy, please...” I managed before he inserted another finger. My hips rose up to meet his thrust. “You must have fantasized about this a lot, huh baby? You want to be Daddy’s slut.” He said. My mind was racing as a new wave of wetness flooded my already soaked cunt. Yes, yes, this is exactly what I wanted. My dark desires coming true. “Yes Daddy, make me your slut.” Rising up to get undressed I saw his body, all muscle and tan skin, and his cock. My mouth still waters when I think of it. “Stand up.” He said. His voice had changed, gotten a. 30. I dared not be late and was outside her room several minutes early, feeling like a waiter with the drinks balanced on a tray. I knocked nervously on her door at exactly 7.30 and she opened it with a stern look on her face but a mischievous glint in her eye. She told me to put the drinks on a small table and waved me to one of two comfortable chairs next to the table. I sat and she passed me one of the drinks. Being treated as an equal, although I knew it wouldn’t last, was unnerving. My hand shook a little as I took the drink. She smiled, enjoying my discomfort, and we chatted almost casually about the situation in which I found myself, about the transition I was now making from colleague, friend, and equal to Slave. We really had become very intimate friends, sharing so much, particularly each other’s desires, fantasies, and fears. It went much deeper than a sexual liaison in a hotel room because she really knew what I was thinking and feeling at that moment. Then, still, very.
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