Indian College Girl Fucks Her Boy Friend At His Flat

He let go of my hand and slid his fingers inside the wrap of my dress. With a sudden jerk, he ripped the front of my dress open, throwing the flaps to each side of my body and exposing my nakedness.He gave another small jerk with his hand in my hair, keeping me slightly off-balance, as his right hand rose up and slapped down across my left breast and nipple. I let out a small squeal as his hand made contact with my tender skin.Another jerk of his hand in my hair, then his right hand thrust between my thighs to cup my pussy. He drove his middle and ring finger up inside of me and then began thrusting them, slightly lifting me off of the ground with each thrust. My right hand was behind my head holding his left wrist and my left hand was gripping the massive forearm of the hand thrusting between my legs. My grip made little difference as he moved me like a rag doll, making me moan and cry out.As soon as his hand smacked down across my breast, I immediately knew who he was. No other man. And she seemed to feel the same way toward me.Even so, I had never even realized how much was happening between us until one day when Cindy asked me up to her little apartment and, in an uncertain stumbling voice, had confessed that she thought she might be falling in love with me and had asked me how I felt toward her. I had seen fear in her eyes when she made this revelation. She had seen all the reasons that a real relationship between us might not work. She was three years my senior. She was my sister Amanda's best friend. During the entire time we had been going out with each other we had never discussed any kind of commitment. That hadn't been part of our relationship - or so I had thought until confronted with Cindy's confession."Are you sure?" I had blurted out, and then had wanted to kick myself almost immediately at the sheer stupidity of the question."Yes... ," she had replied, tears welling up in the corners of he eyes. I had been able to read her like a book. She had.
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