South Indian House Wife Doing Home Sex With Hubby’s Friend

Mychest jiggled just slightly and my, butt stuck out. It even wiggled whenI put one foot in front of the other. The wings behind my back wereanother thing to get used to. They still wanted to drag me backwards, soI had to continually lean forward while standing or walking. This mademy Achilles tendons stretch a bit . I decided I might need high heelsfor walking and standing.I reached the door and found I was right, I could use it as a mirror. Iwatched my mirror image and had to swallow a few times. Without thewings I could have stepped right out of one of the magazine that I hadborrowed from guys at school. Long beautiful legs, which went all theway up. A slit covered by a minimal bush of fine hairs where the legsmet and a nicely tapered waist above that. I had a quite flat tummy, andbreasts hung from my chest. They weren't huge, but they were quitepresent, just the right size for this body.My hair was quite long, now hanging just over my shoulders and was stillraven black. My face. Sylvia had this magnetic personality: she was hounded by so many boys, and even some girls, who wanted to be friends with her. Still, in a way, she was insecure about herself, as if that open adulation was only a façade, something she could not really trust. Sylvia was also a terribly jealous girl as far as her love interests were concerned. The first time Chad had hit her was during a nasty scene of jealousy between those two zany hotheads. I didn't know why she wanted to see him again, but perhaps my sister didn't know it either. I saw her blue eyes scanning the rooms for Chad, but Sylvia's boyfriend was nowhere to be found.I saw her disappointment grow on her pretty face, the preoccupation of getting rid of the boys and girls who wanted to talk to her, dragging her with them by the arms. I followed her in that maelstrom of loud music, soft lights and half-drunk youngsters."And who is this?" asked a guy who looked like 17 or older."My sister Brenda." Sylvia didn't have time.
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